iia 
 
 III
 
 iOH|
 
 > 
 
 THE 
 
 SHEFFIELD DIALECT 
 
 BY ABEL BYWATER. 
 
 SHEFFIELD : 
 G. CHALONER, 3, MARKET-PLACE ; 
 
 Q. WIGHTMAN, 24, PATERNOSTEEnROW; and HOULSTON 
 AND STONEMAN, 65, PATERNOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 
 
 1839.
 
 ENTERED AT STATIONERS HALL.
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 It may very naturally be expected that we should say 
 something about the origin of the " Sheffield Dialect," 
 and the reasons why it has been continued. The 
 first attempt to commit it to wiiting was made at the 
 time when the public mind was much excited by the 
 Roman Catholic Emancipation Bill, the precious 
 working of which we now begin to s.ee, and shall ere 
 long begin io feel. It will be remembered that we 
 had two meetings on the subject, after which our first 
 letter appeared in the columns of the Sheffield Courant. 
 Its publication gave rise to much speculation as to 
 who was its au thor, and we remember enj oy ing thej oke 
 in several companies, where opinions flew swiftly 
 round as to who the mysterious wi'iter could be. — 
 " Hah," says one, " that chap can wroite better nor 
 that; he's nooa fooil, depend on't." " Oh," says 
 another, ^'o kno him, an o could tell his name, if o'd a 
 moind." " Come, then," says a third, " let's have 
 it." " Nay," says he, " o'st not tell his name, but 
 o kno for a fact at it wer written be one at parsons." 
 Of course we oflTerVl no opposition ; indeed, it wdidd 
 
 2000274
 
 iy. PREFACE. 
 
 have been utterly useless, for no one had the most 
 distant idea that it was the production of a grinder. 
 After this, several other letters apjDeared in the 
 different papers on various subjects, and were so 
 well received that Mr. Blackwell, the late publisher 
 of the Iris, first suggested the idea of publishing a 
 pamphlet in the dialect, and at the same time pro- 
 posed several subjects for the author's cogitation. 
 After a short time the first number of the Wheel- 
 swarf Chronicle appeared, the sale of which far ex- 
 ceeding our expectation. From this circumstance, 
 and others, which from delicacy we shall not men- 
 tion, we continued to publish until we had six num- 
 bers of the "Wheelswarf Chronicle," when they were 
 collected and published in one small volume, which 
 has long been out ofprint. Con turning to employ the 
 press by this m.ode of communicating our thoughts, 
 we got access to the very lowest of society, and 
 thus directed our energies against the principles of 
 infidels. We also kept up a close fire against that 
 wTetched crime which is such a stain upon our 
 country, viz., drunkenness ; and hence the Tem- 
 jjerance Chronicles appeared : and to " unfold the 
 principles of good living in private life," out came 
 the Gossips ; and, last of all, some caricatures upon 
 Owenism. Having had such evil principles to con- 
 tend against, our readers will see that in some parts 
 of our little work, we have not paid very much at- 
 tention to the Dialect : for this omission, if it be 
 one, we must beg the indulgence of our numerous 
 friends. 
 
 Having now given a very brief history of the 
 origin and progress of our publications, we may
 
 PRKFACE. V. 
 
 now proceed to some little explanation of characters, 
 customs, words, and sentences : — " The Cutler's 
 Song," p. 21, seems to be a sort of caricature on 
 certain characters, who were manufacturers of fiat- 
 backs, and were passionately for:d of plays and 
 dancing ; hence originated " penny hops." A large 
 room was engaged in some public house, and youths 
 of both sexes admitted to dance for paying perhaps 
 a pennv each, or some small trifle. This practice 
 is still observed in some parts of Sheffield, and has 
 been the ruin of scores of the iemale sex. " Steem 
 at lives at Heeiey," was a m.anufacturer of fiat-back 
 knives, and frequently brought them by cart-loads 
 to the warehouses in Sheffield, There is a tale 
 about an old dame at Wadsley in the flat-back line, 
 who had coaxed the apprentices to make seventeen 
 flat-backs to the dozen, and still not being satisfied, 
 she thought she should like the other knife ; so one 
 day when all the lads were in the house, the old lady 
 pro])Osed that if they would make the other odd knife 
 " they should liave a spice-pudding on the Sunday;" 
 but we believe the old negTo-driver was disappointed. 
 We may now say something of the Cutler's 
 " Lozin." Early in the morning of the day when 
 a cutler is at age, the whole neighbourhood is made 
 aware of the fact by a peal of bells, which happen 
 to be ingots of steel, suspended and struck with a 
 hammer, to the great annoyance of all around. At 
 night a supper is provided, at the conclusion of 
 which the young man is placed in a chair upon the 
 table, when the whole company stand round, and 
 each taking a glass of liquor in his hand, they join 
 in singing, or shouting, the following sentences.
 
 vi. PREFACE. 
 
 which, as then' enunciation is accompanied by cor- 
 responding actions, must be admitted to be very 
 '* full of meaning :" — 
 
 This young man's health, an it shall gooa rahnd. 
 It shall gooa rahnd, it shall gooa rahnd ; 
 
 This young man's health, an it shall gooa rahnd, 
 It shall gooa rahnd, hoi o ! 
 
 The same repetitions are also used while singing 
 the following : 
 
 Houd yer likker aboon yer chin, &c. 
 Oppen yer mahth, an let likker run in, &c. 
 O'l houd ya a crahn it's all gone dahn, &c. 
 
 The following stanza, which concludes the cere- 
 mony, is sung to another strain, and with additional 
 spirit : 
 
 Here's a health to he, that is nah set free, 
 Which once was a prentice bahnd ; 
 
 It is for his sake, this holiday we make. 
 An sooa let his health gooa rahnd. 
 
 We are happy to inform our readers that this cus- 
 tom is now but seldom practised. 
 
 The Bull- Week— a word about that. The best 
 account of the origin of the Bull-week, that we have 
 heard is the following. It is said that the master cutlers, 
 about Walkley and Stannington, many years ago, 
 were accustomed to kill a bull, and cut it up for their 
 men, to feast upon at Christmas, and the men, in 
 order to pay for the extra meat, worked much 
 harder the week before Christmas than usual ; the 
 beef was commonly called then, " bull meit."
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Abhut, aye but 
 
 Adder mif, I dare say 
 
 Al, will ' 
 
 An, cms, one, oues 
 
 Anole, too, also 
 
 A rston , hearthstone 
 
 Ass, ashes 
 
 Assnook, under the fire grate 
 
 At. of the, at the 
 
 Baku, bound (going) 
 
 Bast in, beating 
 
 Beledda, an exclamation to 
 which no particular mean- 
 ing is attached; — supposed 
 to be a corruption of the 
 Roman Catholic oath," By 
 my Lady." 
 
 B err in, burying, fiuieral 
 
 Bio alit, blow-out, eating and 
 drinking to excess 
 
 Blunt, brass, monej 
 
 Breet, bright 
 
 Buckt, beaten 
 
 Bun, bound (to bind) 
 
 Bur, but 
 
 Cloice, close (nigh) 
 
 Coit, coat 
 
 Collar, when the wheel-band 
 is entangled with any part 
 of the machinery it is called 
 a collar 
 
 Colsh, concussion 
 
 Corbo, a thick-hafted knife 
 
 Corher, not to be surpassed 
 
 Coichs, cokes, cinders 
 
 Dahnt spaht, to fetch articles 
 from a pawn-shop: the 
 allusion is to a kind of 
 wooden case erected in 
 pawnbroker's shops, reach- 
 ing from the shop to an 
 upper story, by means of 
 which clothes or other 
 articles, that would not be 
 injured by such a proceed- 
 ing, are expeditiously con- 
 veyed to the shopman. 
 
 Dee, die 
 
 Deed, died 
 
 Deead, dead 
 
 Dobbs, money 
 
 Drum, the broad wheel which 
 carries the wheel band 
 
 Dun, do 
 
 J^en, eyes 
 
 Elsins, awl blades 
 
 Entra, a narrow passage 
 
 Farrantla, decent, upright, 
 honourable 
 
 Flat-back, a common knife 
 
 Fork-dust, the dry dust made 
 in grinding forks
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Freelen'df frightened 
 
 Fun, found 
 
 Ge, Geed, Gen, give, gave, 
 given. 
 
 Gei; Get'n, Gerrin, get, got, 
 getting. 
 
 Ger aht at gate, get out of 
 the way. 
 
 Goit, a narrow stream of 
 water. 
 
 G^rmf//efot^A,a worn out grind- 
 ing stone 
 
 Guzzle, to drink to excess. 
 
 Ha, han, have. 
 
 Hah, how, aye (yes) 
 
 Ha'in, having. 
 
 Heal, there will. 
 
 Hcftpoip, a temporary handle 
 used in grinding razors 
 and forks. 
 
 Heit, eat. 
 
 Hettn, eaten. 
 
 Hulda, hide, to conceal. 
 
 HoV, (subs.) hole. 
 
 Hoil, (v. a.) to expel. 
 
 Hopena, halfpenny. 
 
 Hopple, to chain the wrists 
 or ancles. 
 
 HuU, room in a grin ding- 
 wheel. 
 
 It, in the. Thro it itfoir, 
 throw it in the fire. 
 
 Jannak, as it should be. 
 
 Jaram, order. Out of jaram, 
 out of order. 
 
 Kah, or cah, cow. 
 
 Kale, Kalo, in turn. 
 
 Kelter, money. 
 
 Letherin, see bastin. 
 
 Let on, met with, lighted ou. 
 
 Lig, lay. 
 
 Liggin, lying, recumbent. 
 
 3Ia, mak, miyn, make. 
 
 Mahk, tumulL. 
 
 Marra, synonimous with 
 
 " beled'Mi '--m?iy possibly 
 
 have been corrupted from 
 
 " by Mary." 
 Mo'nt, must not. 
 Mumpin, see letherin. 
 Mun, man, must. 
 Mut, might. 
 Mut'nt, might not. 
 Nehbut, nay but. 
 Nect, night. 
 Nesh, poor spirited. To dct 
 
 nesh, to give up an enter- 
 
 prlze dispirited. 
 NobbiU, only. 
 Nonf, aunt. 
 No'ther, neither. 
 Nuncie, uncle. 
 Ontot, on to the 
 07, of the 
 O'iher, either 
 
 R(hm, (in the place q/) room 
 Reik, reach 
 Rcit, right 
 
 Rolte out, depend upon it 
 Row, tumult 
 Sam, to take up 
 Sap, ale 
 
 Scar'd, frightened 
 Scran, a.ny thing to eat 
 Scrag, ofral, renmant 
 Seef, sight 
 
 Shank end, latter end 
 S'neddle, (schedule) to take 
 
 the beuelit of the act 
 Shoo, Sha, she 
 
 i
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Shood, she would, she had 
 
 Shoo' I, she will 
 
 Shirrick, a trifling coin 
 
 'Sloik, it is like 
 
 Soft, fond, silly 
 
 Strap, credit 
 
 Sivat, to throw down \\'ith 
 violence 
 
 Ta, tah, take 
 
 Ta, thaJi, thou 
 
 Thafst, that is the 
 
 Theal, there will 
 
 Th'oo, from 
 
 Throot, through the, from 
 the 
 
 Tomma, bread 
 
 Tubbc, to be 
 
 Unbet'ioivt, (on hethoiiyht,) 
 to think upon, remember- 
 ed, reminded. 
 
 Wa, WeeL well. 
 
 We, with 
 
 Wehbiir, IVebbiit, well but. 
 
 We'd, we would, we had. 
 
 Wem, we must. 
 
 TT'e'/?, we have. 
 
 West, we shall. 
 
 Whack, share. 
 
 Wheelswarf, the yellow sJudge 
 
 formed during grinding 
 
 on a wet stone. 
 Wick, alixe 
 WoUopin, see mumpin. 
 Wor'nt were not. 
 Wotn ya, what 
 
 what have you. 
 Yabbut, yea but 
 Yo'm, you must 
 Yon you have 
 Yort, yo are the 
 Fo'sf you shall 
 
 do 
 
 TOU, 
 
 GENERAL RULES FOR UNDERSTANDING THE 
 ORTHOGRAPHY. 
 
 D final, in all words ending with and, and g in ing, are 
 generally dropped, as stan, stand, thinkin, thinking. 
 
 /, pronoun, changes to o; asoY'e, I have; sometimes to e : 
 i long changes to oi, a.sfoine, fine. 
 
 N is sometimes added to verbs, as keepn, wantn. 
 
 0?< and ow, dipthongs, change to ah; as ahr, our ; pahnd, 
 pound ; gahn, gown ; 7mh, now. 
 
 TJie, article, is generally contracted to t, and added to 
 the preceding or succeeding word ; as " at tend at tvheel," 
 "at the end of the wheel." When occurring between 
 one word ending, and another beginning with t, it is 
 omitted : as " at fop" " at the top." 
 
 Y ending mouosyllablcs changes to o and oi ; as mo, moi, 
 my; and at the end of dissyllybles to a as moighta, mighty.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page, 
 
 Preface iii. 
 
 Glossary vii. 
 
 Rules f or understanding the Orthography .... ix. 
 
 Conversation I. — News — Co-operative club — Shaving 
 by Steam — Luke the barber — Grondad's berrin — 
 Railway to \\'adsley — Charity lads flying — 
 Bil Heftpoip's speech on the March of Intellect — 
 A regular Malak in the Kitchen — New Water 
 Company — Old Cobbett — Mr. Rodgers's Show- 
 Room I 
 
 Conversation IL — Jooa Slitspring's Lozin — Names 
 of the Company — Groves's, Saw factor)- — " Oud 
 toimes " and " now a days" — Sour oat cake — 
 Supper disasters — Yarmovith beef and resurrection 
 pie — New Coin — Corn Laws — Swing — Political 
 Union — The Cutler's Song — Bull week mis- 
 fortunes — The Squinting Lawyer — North Pole 
 broken II 
 
 Conversation III. — -Queer Signs — Horticultural 
 wonder — A Bear's Nest — Courting excursion — 
 Process of making a penknife — Tooth drawing by 
 Steam — A conjunction — Bell's Life — A Night in 
 York Minster — Phrenology- — Figaro — Carlile . . 27 
 
 Conversation IV. — Address to the public — Gemini and 
 Carlile — The doctrine of necessity — Authenticit\- 
 of the Scriptiu'cs , 47
 
 CONTENTS. xi. 
 
 Occasional Papers : — 
 
 Letter tot King 60 
 
 Conversation between a Freethinker and Jack 
 Wheelswarf 63 
 
 Metaphysical Questions and Answers 69 
 
 A Letter to all the Wesleyan-Methodist Preachers 73- 
 
 COBRESPONDENCE WITH THE SHEFFIELD NEWSPAPERS : 
 
 A Grinder's opinion of a certain Gentleman's speech, 
 
 in Paradise-square, in the year 1829 7ft 
 
 Christmas Singing 81 
 
 Prize- Fighting 82 
 
 Temperaxce Chronicle: — 
 
 No. L— Mr. Buckingham's Bill 85 
 
 No. II. — Castigation foraDrunkard — Drunken" ways 
 
 and means" — Effects of Drunkenness — Trimmings 96 
 
 No. III. — Life ofJooa Guzzle, a reclaimed dnmkard — 
 A Contrast i the Drunkard's Home, and the Home 
 of the Pious Temperance Man I05« 
 
 The Gossips : — 
 
 No. I. — Introduction — A forenoon Spent in " Neigh- 
 bouring" 114 
 
 No. II. — Dinah Dubbletung's Tea Drinking 127 
 
 No. III.— Jonna Doolittle's Fortune 13S 
 
 MlSOELLAKEOUS CONVERSATIONS: 
 
 No. I. — Jonna Flatstick's description of their wheel 
 — Dog Fighting — A Blow up — The Toper's creed 
 — Committee for the Suppression of Christianity 
 — Miracles — Twelve subjects for the grave con- 
 sideration of twelve wise men — The Irishman — 
 The Quaker — Joint Stock Companies — Jooa 
 Guzzle at Church — Buckingham's Claims — How 
 to get a Good Husband — A Middle Piece 149
 
 xii. CONTEXTS. 
 
 No. II. — Signs of Christinas — Childitu'i; wants — Bil 
 Heftpoip's Voyage round the world — The Stranger 
 — Love Letters — A Plate — Sorrow met halfway 
 — Questions about Women — Questions for would- 
 be Philosophers 170 
 
 No. III. — Discussion on the advantages and dis- 
 advantages of the married state — Cure for the 
 Tooth-ache — How to spell "Corner" — Jooa 
 Guzzle burked — Grace before Meat 187 
 
 No. IV. — Lord Mayor — Jooa Guzzle in Spain — The 
 
 Haunted Castle 203 
 
 No. V. — Subjects for the Annual — A Life Sketch — The 
 Gossips' petition to the Queen — Influence of 
 female beauty in a good cause — Leanaed women. 
 — Value of woman — Socialism — Dissection of a 
 sheep's head — Hard words, and their signification , 
 — The Owenite's Creed — Curious Calculations . . 214 
 
 Dicky Otley at the Music-Hail, July 20, 1836 236 
 
 The Shevvild Chap's opinion abaht proize feitin 246 
 
 The Shevvild Chap's opinion of Robert Owen's 
 
 Socialism, as exhibited in the Social Bible 255 
 
 The Sheaf Bridge Orators, or a night in the Owenites' 
 
 Sanctuary 266 
 
 The Phrenological Farrago of Charles Thorold Wood, 
 
 Esq. Wheelswarft 275
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 CONVERSATION I. 
 
 Guide — Gud moniin, sur ; o've heeard at hah 
 yo wantn a chap to sho ya throot factoriz, an sitch 
 ioik. 
 
 Gentleman — Yes, my man, and if you will be 
 so kind as to conduct me to those jDlaces, I \nll 
 give you five shillmgs. 
 
 Guide — Yo will P^Wa, o'l tak ya onna whear for 
 that ; it al be't best day's wark o've dun for menny 
 a month ; an yo'st gooa to ahr wheel fm'st. 
 
 Gent — With all my heart; and I hope you 
 will enter into as much conversation with your col- 
 leagues as possible. 
 
 Guide — Tubbe shure o will; nobbut yo mo'nt 
 laiF at are toke. Yo seen yon steppms at end at 
 wheel ? Wa, that's are hull ; an yo mmi moind yer 
 coitlaps duz'nt catch 't di'um : yo mmikeep cloice to 
 me till yo getten uppat hull arston, an then yo can 
 sit ya dahn and smook yer poip. 
 
 B
 
 2 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Gent — Is this the place. Guide ? 
 
 Guide — Hah, thatst dooar; in we ya ! (Guide 
 shouts) Hey, oud Wheelswarf ! hah gooas it ? 
 Dusta hear oiiiia news nah ? 
 
 Jack — Hali, t' Dutch as tain Holland. 
 
 Guide — Moi oi ! oud lad, thah art sharp : but 
 wot dusta think ahaht King a France an that set ? 
 
 Jack — 0, they loikn eggs to weel for 
 me ; west want another generashon a hens, if we 
 keepn that squad here long. 
 
 Guide — \Va, whear mun we send him ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, send him tot King a Spain 
 to help him to may a perricot for't Virgin. 
 But wot al hacum a PoUignac, o wunder ? 
 
 Guide — Wotal becum on him ? — Whoy, they 1 
 throttle him, it's loik ; o'd have all sitch as him 
 hang'd an chopt as small as a horse, an throne 
 dahnt goit. Thah shud a heeard wot Bro'me sed 
 abaht him it square. It made mo blud run cowd e 
 me vanes; an for all o wer squeezed ta death, o cud 
 a staid all't neet to a heeard him. 
 
 Jack — Hah, o kno Bro'me's a rattler ; 
 he'l mak sum on em stare, when he spaiks it 
 Hahce this seshon; an't tuther three's dacent chaps, 
 mun ; they'l do summat for uz, thah ma roite on't. 
 O shud'nt wonder if they dooant thro't gam laws 
 aht, an then abodda al ger a bit a hare on as awn 
 shooitin, withaht gen*in up tot knees in a man-trap, 
 or havvin abaht a dozen gret fat brussen gam- 
 keepers at as heels o'ther. 
 
 Guide — Thear's non sitch luck, lad; theyl tak 
 care at gam for ther sens. Bur o'd ne'er heed that, 
 if they'd squasht corn bill ; that ad be't foinest thing
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 3 
 
 for't pooar fooaks ; v.-e'st want non a yer operative 
 clubs ; nou, not sooa. 
 
 Jack — Abbut tli:iii ino'nt say nowt agean 
 them no'ther. 
 
 Guide — Wa, mim, o near reitla kno'd hah they 
 mannidg'd em ; bm' o'm thinkin at hah it al tak 
 mooar honnesta nor's stmiin nah-days to mak a job 
 on't ; ilt chap tmiis a rooag at keeps stooai'-hahce, 
 then yore in for't ; an besoide, thah cahnt boi the 
 stuff no'ther cheaper nor better nor o can ; an v/hen 
 ta's sed all ta can, tliah stans a chonce a pa}dn the 
 mmnia all't days o the loif, withaht bein a skinick 
 better fort. Tubbe shure thah ma draw tlie brass 
 aht after sich a toim ; bur o daht thahl not have a 
 deeal a intrist for the keller, when t' stooar-hahce 
 chap's getten his whack. (Reik me a leet, Bil, me 
 poip's aht.) 
 
 Jack — Oh, thah kno's nowt abaht it, mun. 
 T' stooar-hahce chap cahnt be a rooag varra 
 v.eel. He's fooast to foind securata, an he cahnt 
 lay a hopena aht withaht committee kno's all abaht 
 it, nor he mo'nt sell nowt U2)pa strap nother; be- 
 soide, ivvera chap it consani has a chonce to look 
 at books, for they're awlis oppen'd iwera quarter ; 
 bur o'm thinkin at hah if they loikn ale hofe as 
 weel as thah duz, we shuddcnt tak em in. 
 
 Guide — Webbut ween had enuff a this ; han ya 
 lieeard a this new invenshon wot they'n fun aht 
 lutela '' 
 
 Jack — Wots it abaht ? 
 
 Guide — Whoy, they sen at hah t' barbers is 
 bahn to shave fooaks be steeam. 
 
 Jack — Cum, cum, oud chap, thaht trailin
 
 4- THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 us nail ; we cahnt swalla that no'tlier ; — 
 west have that swapt at omia rate. 
 
 Guide — Wa, t* barber teld me sooa his sen. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Allads, oud frend, thah's 
 geen us a clencher at last ; but sum at bai-bers is 
 sich loiars. O'l ge the a sample a wot a gret loiar 
 Little Luke wor (thah knode him, he liv'd it Grin- 
 die gate) He sed at hah he wer wonce bahn up 
 t' Oud Park Wood, an a gret bare cum runnin reit 
 streit oppen mahth at him ; an he sed, " o dubbled 
 up me shet sleeve, ramm'd me arm reit dahn his 
 throit, laid oud on his tail, and tuni'd him insoid 
 ahterds ;" and if ivver thah heeard a bigger loi e the 
 loit', spaik. 
 
 Jack — Hah he sartanla wor a gret loiar; 
 ivvera toime he o})pen'd his mahth, it wert soign of 
 a loi, [Enter child. ~\ 
 
 Child — Dad, me mam sez yore to cum hooam, 
 nie nuncle's cum'd we me nont, an they're booath 
 bahn to me gTondad's ben'in. 
 
 BiL — Pooar oud crater ! he's had a sooar 
 toime out ; heez near been reit sin his collar booan 
 wer brocken won neet as he wer bahn tot play, 
 we a strooak o'ert shin, at throde him intot muck, 
 an brake his heead ageean aboolder. [Shouts to 
 the child] Wa, o'st cum enah ; ger hooam we the. 
 O near seed t' loik, here's awlis summat cummin to 
 backen a bodda ; o'st have moournin to boi for ahr 
 oud lass an mesen, an't stuff' an't mackin al coss 
 aboon a bit. 
 
 Guide — Has he left the owt, Bil ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, hear'l be a bit, o reckon ; thear's a 
 kah an a kofe to divoide amang noin on uz.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 5 
 
 Jack — AVlioy, thear'l not be a leg a piece 
 for ya. 
 
 [At this moment the conversation icas interupted 
 by a person of the name of Bob Beanhead, who, 
 I ivas informed, came from Wadsley with 
 blades to grind.'] 
 
 Guide — Nah, Bob, hah ahr tha geiTiii on we 
 yove colledge ? 
 
 Bob Beanhead — Hoo, bless the loif, its finisht 
 long sin, an we'd ere so menna speeches, an proim 
 ans anole, when it wer oppen'd. Jooa Slitspring 
 geed uz a lectur uppat necessata a havvin a railway 
 to Wadsley for't better conveyance a blackberries 
 an flatbacks to Shevvild market, an he proved it it 
 spoit a ther teeth, becos he sed at hali we'd awlis 
 been fooast to send t' knoives to Shevvild iippen a 
 jackass, an wit lads niakkin em trot, they shack'n t' 
 revvits aht befooar they get'n em lot warehas. Bur 
 if we'd a railway, he sed they'd cum sooa easy at 
 hah we shud'nt need to revvit em at all. Bur o 
 avver, thear wer won chap at sed summat at o cud'nt 
 tak in ; he wanted to mak us believe at hah t' 
 world turn'd rahnd: but not sooa. 1ft world tuni'd 
 rahnd, wud'nt all't watter run aht a ahr well ? hah, sloik 
 it wud ; an besoid, we shud all tumble oft', shud'nt 
 we ? An then he sed at hah thear wornt a man it 
 niooin, when ivvera chap e Wadsley 's seen his face 
 menny a toime. Bur at last he teld us at sun 
 wonit a foiar, an o thowt he cum up we nowt hardla 
 then ; it's loik he ihowt Wadsley chap's wer all 
 soft, becos ween letten us poips at sun menny a 
 toim, an if it \vornt foiar, hah cud we ?
 
 «• THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — wish we mut have a raikooad to 
 V/adsley, becos we shud ger us stooaiis for less 
 brass then. 
 
 Guide — Tbah sees nab, wot t' march a mtellect's 
 dun for us, we inventin t' raihvays ; nobbut look 
 backards, when they yus't to gooa to Lunnun uppat 
 pack-horses ; wa then they went it waggin at taid 
 em seven days, an after that, it fore days' floi. But 
 when t' cooach begun a gooin e twenta hahwers, it 
 wer thowt a merrical ; bur if we'd teld us fath'ers at 
 we wer balm to Lunnun afooar nooin, they'd sartanla 
 a thowt we wer crazy. 
 
 Jack — An sooa they wud, mun ; but wot 
 dusta think t' march a intellect's dooin for t' 
 charrata lads ; it's thowt be sum fooaks at hah 
 they're bahn to larn em to floy, for they're beeldin 
 summat at top ai schooil for em to start off on. 
 
 Guide — Na, na, oud chap, it al not doo, mun ; 
 o can tell the all abaht it. Thah kno's at hah't 
 charrata lads awlis play'd it chetch-yard, an at 
 last they fon it aht at hah 't deead fooaks cud'nt 
 be quoiat for em, sooa they sent em into't 
 St. James's-street ; bur they kick't up to much 
 noise thear, sooa thah see's they wor detennin'd 
 ta tak't young rascals haht a ivvera bodda's gate, 
 an nah they'r bahn to may em a play grahnd at 
 top at schooil. 
 
 xIpprentice — Mester, we wanten smmsewit, 
 t'rattens has hetten all't hofe pahnd at wer left 
 uppat horsin t'last neet. 
 
 Master (shouts) — O'l sewit yo ya scamp, o'l 
 lam yo to leeave t'sewit uppat horsin, o will, Ser 
 off hooam an ax are oud las for sum brass, an if
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 7 
 
 yer not back in a minnit, o'l ge yo sum kick for 
 not takkin t'cowks up e yer kail this mo'nin. 
 
 [At this moment one of our company rose up, 
 mounted the drum box, and made the follou-ing 
 speech.'] 
 
 Bill Heftpoip. — Mester Gentlemen ; O rala 
 cud'nt oud nooa longer, yo'n been praisin't marcli 
 o inellect. Yis, an we'n lied a vaira foine swatch 
 at march o intellect, it passin o't beer bill. Gen- 
 tlemen, thear nivver wor a softer thowt cum aht 
 at crazy brain's o silly Luke. An they sen at hah 
 its to morraloize t'cuntra ; bur o'd ax em, wud 
 onna boddarun his heead into a foiar as he muttent 
 be burnt ? or wud onna chap run heead long into't 
 rivver, as he muttent be drahnded .? Bur its just 
 as loikla at they'd no'ther be burnt nor di'ahnded 
 we dooin as o've sed, as its loikla for't beer bill to 
 moiTaloize't cuntra. Nivver nooa goverment it 
 world tum'd aht sich infatuated madness as ahr's 
 az dun, wit passin a this bill. Its t'warst act at 
 ivver cum throo betweent walls o Sent Stivvins. 
 Gentlemen, if ivver t'moiTals ov a nashon wor 
 blasted boi legislativ innactments, t'moiTals o 
 England's blasted nah. Nobbut look wot it al doo 
 for us; it al ge ivvera voile vaggabond a chonce 
 
 to oppen his hahce for tipplin : w in, cardin, 
 
 feitm, an ivvera koind o villana ats awlis at heels o 
 drunkenness albe athahsand toimesmooar common 
 nor ivver it wor knone afooar nah. T'cuntra seems 
 to be turned into one common pot hahce, for yo cahnt 
 put yer heead into nooa village bur vol foind a 
 Jeny shop {heah heah) : an then'''twark's neglekted, 
 childer's clamd, twoife's cursint day at ivver shoo
 
 8 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 kno'd ther father : grooacer stands in fort, pop 
 shop gets his clooaz, an he's fooast to hurn cliar- 
 coil at Sunday ; he's spent hrass at he shud a paid 
 trent we — in cum'st baleys, trails him off tot gaol, 
 an his woif an his hofe-clam'd-to-deeath childer 
 gooaz tot warkas, an this is yer mai'ch o intellect. 
 Gentlemen, we'st nivver nother ger a sup o gud 
 ale, nor a hit o gud bahm. 
 
 Guide — i^llads, Bil, thaht a ratler o avver ! 
 thah's geen it em reit this toime. O'l bet owt 
 he'al be sum jobs fort doctors. Belledda! o'st 
 not be supproized if there's a plague it talm 
 afooai' long, for they'l ge it sum fizzic. Nah 
 heah's the dinnah. Bill. {Boy enters.) 
 
 Boy- — A fath'er we'n all been sca'rd halit on uz 
 wits. 
 
 Bil — Whoy, wot's been iip ? 
 
 Boy — Wot's been up ! whoy we'n all been up 
 an dahn anole,for just when ahr Nanse wor balm to 
 ta't broth off at foiar, a gi'eat buhncm ratten jumpt 
 aht at asnook ; dahn went broth uppat arston, an 
 aht rould sheep heead uppat flooar. Suke thro'dt 
 dish clahte at tratten, an catched me muther ore't 
 een. Sal wur gemn aht at gate an shoo tumbled 
 oer't sheep heead amang't broth. Tom struck at 
 tratten wit beesom, an't heead floid intoo a panshon 
 ful a watter, an nok't soide haht. Sooa, yo seen, 
 we'n hed a noist mess ; for wot wit broth, an wot 
 wit watter, we were ommast up to't knees. Bm' 
 twarst o all Dick Greeda's dog run away wit 
 sheep heead, an sooa me muther's sent yo sum 
 troip. 
 
 Bil — Wa yo'u hed sum fun, o avver.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 9 
 
 JooA Crocus {comes in smooking) — Nah oud 
 lad, thah sees thejn getlen t'act for't New Wattei 
 Cumpamia. 
 
 Jack — Hah that's aiiuther sample o't march 
 ov mtellect, we'm be fooast to ha't watter at 
 their proice, and mo'nt use aboon sich a quantata 
 no'ther. Aq om teld at hah they'l send a chap it 
 hahses onna toime, to see if we was ten twatter, an if 
 we dun they'l o'ther foin us, or else send us tot 
 oil. But if onnabodda tumbles into't dams and 
 gers drahnded they'l be transported for disturbin 
 twatter. 
 
 JooA Crocus — O hah, they'l transpooart deead 
 fooaks will they ; abber weel brust dams afooar 
 we'l Stan it. We mo'nt ha na waiter officers 
 cummin into ahr hahses when they 'n amoind, no'ther. 
 Ahr oud lass sez shoo'l swat a buckitful a watter 
 uppat furst chap at cums e ahr hahce uppa that 
 harrand — an shoo will anole in a jitfa. Theyr as 
 greedy a gerrin brass as oud Cobbett. 
 
 Jack — Oud Cobbett ! Thah's just unbe- 
 thowt ma; oud Cob's seld his sen for six 
 months for two hundred sovrins, to be shown up 
 in a caravan all oer't countra. O sartanla think 
 he'd sell his sen to the d — 1 for sovrins. O 
 reckon weest ha em shahtin t'next Shevvild fair 
 — " Walk in ladies and gentlemen to see this 
 grate political animal, he'st wunder at wold, he'st 
 mooast vorashas appetoit for kelter ov onna beast 
 e allt collection. Feed him we this an he'l gooa 
 onna rooad, an doo onna thing. He's not loik 
 tuther animals, he nivver rooars when he's fed; 
 bur when he's clam'd he mays a ten toimes bigger
 
 10 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 noise nor all't loians it taliwer. Only one shillin 
 ladies and gentlemen ; yo'l remember he'st Ibinest 
 animal at koind at ivver were piip't an if yo miss 
 this chonce its mooar nor ten to \\'on if ivver yo'n 
 anuther." — This albe toight, Bil, weant it ? 
 
 BiL — Hall, lad, it will anole. 
 
 Gent. — Is that person grinding a sword. 
 Guide ? 
 
 Guide — A sooard ! non, not sooa; he's groindin 
 a razor for Mester Rodgers' sho room. 
 
 Gent. — A razor ! you astonish me. 
 
 Guide — He is, o avvcr ; its ommast two feet 
 long an three inch an a hofe brooad, an sevven 
 pahnd weight ; yo nivver seed sich a razor e yore 
 loif, o kno. 
 
 Gent. — No, never. Messrs. Rodgers are cut- 
 lers to their Majesties, are they not ? 
 
 Guide. — Hah, they'rt King's cutlers, an that 
 chap groinds for em : yo mun ha sum o their razors, 
 an yo'l shave yer sen loik winkin ; yo'l nobbut need 
 to clap em on to yer chin an yer beard's oiFafooai" 
 yo kno'n owt abaht it. 
 
 Guide — O say, Mester, o think we'st ha no 
 toime to gooa tot factriz to neet, yo seen its ommast 
 dark nah ? 
 
 Gent. — O no, by no means, we cannot go any 
 where else to night, but if I have another oppor- 
 tunity, I shall be glad to avail myself of your 
 assistance in the same manner.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 CONVERSATION II. 
 
 Guide — Mesler yore just man at o wanted to 
 see. O'm babn to Jooa Slilsprino-'s lo'zin, to neet, 
 an if vol gooa o kno yo'l be made welcom, an yo'l 
 ger plenta o ale ta yer back, an some beef an 
 piiddin to yer bella ; an besoide, we'st ha a goose. 
 
 Gent. — Thank you. Guide, I shall be glad, 
 indeed, of such an opportunity, not so much for 
 the beef and pudding you talk of, as the enjoyment 
 of the conversation, &c., and if you will act in the 
 capacity of Guide once more, half a sovereign shall 
 recompense your kindness. 
 
 Guide — Wa yore jannak, o avver ; yore't best 
 chap at ivver o let on e mo loif. cud loik tubbe 
 yore sarvant ivvera day. 
 
 Gent. — Guide, do you know most of the persons 
 that are invited to supper ? 
 
 Guide — Hah, sloike o doo. Theal be mesen 
 an yo, an Jack Wheelswarf, an oud Samma 
 Squarejoint, an Luke Threesquare, and Bil Heft-
 
 12 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 poip, and Jerra Flatback, and Jooa Slitspring, an his 
 lather and mulher — O! an heal be Jooa Shtspring's 
 mester, an be chonce summada at o dooant kno. 
 O say, Mester if yo'n a moind, we'l just pop into 
 Groves's saw factra ; its just heah, and yo'st look at 
 their cirkiller saws. 
 
 Gent. — I should very much like that, for I 
 have often heard speak of the superior temper of 
 their saws. 
 
 Guide — Wa, then, cum up heah, an yo'st see 
 sum proime ans. Nobbut luk ya, theahs a saw 
 foive or six foot rahnd. That saw al cut a foreteen 
 foot deal in a minnit. Bless yer sowl, man, it ad 
 saw a world e two if it were wood. Nah, then, yo'st 
 look at sum little toina ans. See yah, heeah's won 
 heeah abaht a inch-an-a-hofe across. Nah, yo seen, 
 thease is to saw oivry an booan, an horn, an pearl, 
 and sich loik, and varra yuseful tooils they are, 
 anole, bur o a,vver, we mun gooa or else we'st be ta 
 late fo't suppa. 
 
 Gent. — What time is the supper to be on the 
 table ? 
 
 Guide — Abaht six o'clock. 
 
 Gent. — Then we must hasten. Have we far to 
 go ? 
 
 Guide — Nou, its nobbut just on yond street an 
 dahn anoiher, an then we gooan a bit farther, an 
 turns to as left, streit throo a entra, an up a yard, 
 an then wear at it ; if yo mayn haste, we'st be there 
 in a minnit. [Knocks at the door, and Mrs. 
 Slitspring opens it.) 
 
 Guide — O say, Nanna, ove browt mo fiend 
 wimma ; o reckon its all reit.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 13 
 
 Mrs. Slitspring — Cum in, cum in, thah'd na 
 kashon to ax that soft question, if thah'd browt 
 hofe a scooar frends, it ad a been all rcit. Preya, 
 do cum in, Sur, yore as welcom at hooam. [Here 
 the husband apologizes for his tcife's blunder.'] 
 ' Yo mun ta na nooatice a are Nannah, shoo awlis 
 spaiks as shoo thinks ; shoo ment at hah yo'd be 
 as welcom heah as if yo wor at yer awn hahce. 
 
 Gent — Thank you, vSir, I believe I am welcome, 
 tor I really think that the Sheffield people are the 
 most free and liberal people of any in Yorkshire. 
 
 Guide — Wa, o've heeard that scd afooar, and o 
 believe its reit anole. 
 
 OuD Samma Squarejoint — O say, JeiTa, 
 heah's dilferent toimes for prentis ladsnah, thrubbe 
 wot they wor when thee an me wor prentis, is'nt 
 ther, oud lad ? 
 
 Jerra Flats AC k — Hah, they'n better toimes 
 on't nah, booath e heitin an clooas ; wen had 
 inenni a mess a nettle ponidge an brawis on a 
 Sunda monin, for us brekfast ; an it wor nobbut a 
 sup a hot watter tem uppa sum wotcake, we a bit a 
 fat in, at made hear a star, an thear a star : an as 
 for clooas, us coit cloth wor awhs as cooarse as if it 
 ad been wovven throo a noin barr'd gate ; an us 
 britches made a lether, butten'd rahnd us hips, an 
 raich'd dahn tot cap on us knees ; an for all meit 
 wor so cheeap, we van-a seldom tasted off a Sundiz 
 — yo mut a bowt it at tuppence-hopena a pahnd, an 
 if yo'd twenta pahnd at wonce, they'd a geen 
 ya a sheep heead in. Samma, dusta remember 
 hah menni names we had for sahwer wotcake ? 
 
 Oud Samma Squarejoint — O kno'nt lad; bur
 
 14 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 o tliink we'd foive or six. Let's see ; Slammak 
 wer won, an Flat-dick wer anutlier ; an't tuther 
 wor — a dear, mo memra fails ma — Flamiel an 
 Jonta ; an-an-an-an — bless me, wot a thing it is 
 tubbe oud, mo memra gers war for ware, bur o kno 
 heali's anuther ; o'st think on enah. O, it wer 
 Tooa Clate. A, Jerra, heah's menni a thahsand 
 dogs nah days, at's better dun too nor we 
 wor then ; an them wert golden days a Hallamshoir, 
 they sen. An they happen wor fo't m esters. 
 Hofe at prentis lads e them days wor leiherd, 
 whoile ther skin wor skoi blue, an clam'd whoile 
 ther booans wer bare, an work'd whoile they wor 
 as nock-kneed as oud Nobbietistocks. Thah ni wer 
 sees nooa nock-kneed cullers nah; nou, not sooa ; 
 they'n better mesters nah, an tlicy'n better sooat a 
 wark anole. They dooant mezher em we a stick, 
 as oud Natta Hall did. But for all that, we'd none, 
 a yer werligig polishin : nor Tom Dockin scales, 
 wit bousters cumin off; nor yer sham stag, nor 
 sham revvits, an sich loik — tnoives wor better made 
 then, Jerra. 
 
 Jarra Flatback — Hah, they wor better made"; 
 they made tnoives for yuse then, but they mayn 
 em to sell nah. 
 
 (Mrs. Slitsprmg enters and addresses herself 
 to the company.) — O reckon yo begin to think 
 yore ta ha na supper to neet ; its varra toirsom ; 
 we'n been a nahwer an a hole e troin to cut yond 
 goose up, an wear no foiTeddayit ; (but for mo part, 
 o sartanla beleev at hah shoo's a ganner.) Sooa 
 yo seen Dame Flatback ger oud a won leg, an o 
 ger oud on anuther, thinkin yo no'ne, we'd pull
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 15 
 
 em off — for we cuddent cut em — an't oud dame's 
 hand slipt off, an shoo tumbled backards, an nockt 
 haster uppat beef, ant beef intot asnook, an we 
 sprotihn abaht to ger up, slapt her hand into a 
 posnitful o melted butta, an ore that went, Wa 
 tlien, ahr Jooa get tachet tot goose, ant furst 
 strooak e struck, grava flew all ore't wmda, ant 
 tunyans fioid chock e mo mahth — (bur o thowt we 
 shud happen be short, sooa o popt em in agean) — 
 bur o avver, Jooa cuddent ger a passidge wit 
 tachet: sooa they'n tain it tot circkiller saw, to cur 
 it up theah ; nobbut o daht it al be cowd, sooa yo'd 
 as weel begin a't beef furst. 
 
 Gext. — Who says beef gentlemen ? 
 
 Jack — Nobbada sed nowt, Sur. 
 
 Gent. — Will you take a small bit of beef ? 
 
 Guide — Nou, o'st not ha a bit. 
 
 Gent. — Perhaps you dont like beef? 
 
 Guide — Nol haht o me sect, Sur, o dooant 
 loik it. 
 
 Gent. — Come, then, let me help you to a 
 Httle. 
 
 Guide — Na, o dooant loik a Httle. 
 
 Gent. — Shall I help you to a small bit of pud- 
 ding ? 
 
 Guide — Nou, o'st not ha a bit. 
 
 Gent. — Why, I am sure it is uncommonly 
 nice. 
 
 Guide — Abber, o mo'nt ha a bit a puddin 
 no'iher. 
 
 Gent. — I am sorry I cannot help you to a little 
 beef. 
 
 Guide — Yo can, if yo'n a moind : cut me a
 
 16 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 piece, mun, abaht a pahnd ; o want non o yer 
 fashonable bits : o should be bittin all't iieet ; reik 
 ma a rooit a sallara, Jen-a, witta ? 
 
 Jack — Thrust that pomt dahn heah, o'm 
 onimast chooakt. Mester, will ya cut oud 
 Samma a piece a beef, an ler it be tinsoid, and 
 vaiTa tender ; toud chap has na teeth, sooa ifhe calmt 
 mump it, he ma suck it. 
 
 Gent. — With the greatest pleasm'e ; any other 
 gentleman like a piece ? 
 
 BiL Heftpoip. — Can yo cut me a boo 'an, Suiv? 
 O loik a booan ; oVe heeard em say — 
 " Tnearest grahnd, tsweetest gress ; 
 Tnearest booan, tsweetest flesh." 
 
 If tetto'z is mush't o'l ha a sup o gravaamang em. 
 O say, Go'id thah mut a left abodda a bit o sal- 
 lara ; when thah heits sallara, thah't just loike a 
 horse heitin karrats. 
 
 Gent. — Will any gentleman take a piece of 
 pudding ? 
 
 JooA Slitspring — O'st ha sum when o've 
 hetten this — but near heed, lig it a won soid o me 
 plate, an ge me sum branda so'ce. 
 
 Jack — Jooa, this branda so'ce is as sahwer as 
 Vargas. 
 
 Mistress Slitspring {smells at the sauce) 
 — Hah, lad, an sooa it is ; oud dame Sqimrejoint's 
 putten 'tallegar in it rahm a branda ; yo can near 
 ger nobbada to do nowt loik yer sen. 
 
 {The next half hour iv as occupied in a ivay, so 
 as to preclude all conversation, except noiv and 
 then a word in praise of the beef, ^c.) 
 
 Jerra Flatback, (makes an observation.) —
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 17 
 
 I t's menna a muntli sin o ate hofe as mucli beef as 
 o 've dun to neet. 
 
 Gent. — Will any gentleman take a piece more? 
 
 JooA Slitspring. — O'st not; o rala beleeve 
 at heitin ta's aboddiz appetoit away. 
 
 Jack Wheelswarf — Nou, lad, o mo'nt ha na 
 mooar to neet. 
 
 Luke Threesquare — O'st not; o think, Sur, 
 if a bodda wer to live a this rooad all along, they'd 
 soon ha't gaht. 
 
 Gent. — How do you live in a general way ? 
 
 Jerra — Whoy, at shank end at 'tweek we 
 livven mooastly uppa Yarmouth beef an resur- 
 reckshon poy. 
 
 Gent. — Yannouth beef and resurrection pie ! I 
 do'nt know what you mean. 
 
 Jerra — Nou, yo're better off. Yannouth 
 beef meeans red herrins, an a resmTeckshon 
 poy's madea booans an tettoes, ant scrag ends a oud 
 meit : if ya seed won oppen'd, yer chaps ad watter 
 whoile ya rooar'd ; yo mut venter to ge a shillin 
 for ivvera drop a grava wot sparkled. 
 
 Gent. — Mrs. Slitspring, every gentleman seems 
 to have made an excellent supper, the table is now 
 at yom' pleasure. (All were riding uhen) 
 Old Mr, Slitspring — exclaimed, — Stop pigs ! 
 if ya begun loik brutes, yo'st end loik Christians 
 for wonce ; {so he returned thanks and the table 
 was cleared.) 
 
 Jack — O say, JeiTa, hasta seen onna o this new 
 coin ats cum'd aht latela, at two for threehopence ^ 
 
 Jerra — Nou, nor thee nother ; o think at hah 
 they'd ne'er mak threefai'din pieces o avver.
 
 18 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Yabber o have, thali'd as weel say o'm a 
 loiar. 
 
 Jerra — Pretlia, wot king's rein are they in ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, George't fourth ; an as pratta a 
 coin as ivver o clapt me een on. 
 
 Bii. — It's a bit oddish at nobbada it cumpana's 
 ne'er seen non bur thee Jacka, and besoide its not 
 vaiTa loikla at they'd ma threehopena pieces, an 
 two for threehopence, wot duz thah think, Jooa? 
 
 JooA Slitspring — O'l beheve it when o see it, 
 bur not till ; dun yo think it loikla, fath'er P 
 
 Old Mr. Slitspring — O dooant kno, lad; 
 theyn happens made em a purpos to boi red her- 
 rins we, becos, thah kno's heahs a menna at three- 
 fardins a piece, an if thah ta's a penna for won 
 thah'l ger a fardin's worth a pins aht or else a oud 
 ho])ena ; heah's no knoin lad, it happen is sooa. 
 
 Guide — O reckon thah't havvin us a bit, 
 Svvarfa; thah hetcht that uppa yore hull arston, 
 did'nt ta ? Can thah say at thali's seen a 
 king George coin at two for threehopence, wethaht 
 laffin ? 
 
 Jack — Hah o can, nah. An as yo'n sed om 
 tellin o loi, o'l just sho ya two. (They all 
 immediately rise up, and Jack throivs doivn a 
 penny and a halfpenny upon the table.) Nah, 
 is'nt them two for threehopence, eh ? (Loud bursts 
 of laughter.) 
 
 Jerra — Here, Jack, sup for that; thah'l ne'er 
 be bet. 
 
 Samma Squarejoint — Wot, is ther onnanews 
 stirrin, Jerra ? 
 
 Jerra — Hah, sorra news anole ; diis'nt
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 19 
 
 la see hali't stacks is blazin ujd an dahn'i 
 countra ? If tha gooan on a this way, west ha no 
 tomma sooin. 
 
 Samma Squarejoint — Wa, wots tubbe 
 dim to mend it, abodda ad think we cahnt be 
 na war. 
 
 Jerra — We'st ne'er be reit whoilt com 
 laws is throne aht; then than kno's we cud truck 
 for corn, an he 'ad be plenta a wark for us ail. 
 
 Samma Squarejoint — Wa, then, wots tubbe 
 dun \nt faiTaers, becos if we trucken for fomn 
 com, they wod'nt need to mak sum ; and if they 
 did'nt ma sum, they'd be aht a wark, an ad be 
 fooast ta gooa to't warkas. 
 
 Jerra Flats ack — 0, tlanlords shud sattle 
 trents. 
 
 Samma — Wa, bur if trents is sattled, an 
 corn's sattled, hah's taxes tubbe paid? 
 
 Jerra Flatback — O, ahr king owtto sheddle, 
 an then we shud ha nooa taxes to pay : o'm shure 
 he mut sheddle weel enuii', an he mut live weel 
 anole whoile he wor it jail. 
 
 BiL — Is'nl it enuff to mak a chap hate his 
 cuntra, to think at ivvera pooar fella's fooast to pay 
 his munna to keep a stannm arma marchin up an 
 dalm't cuntra e toime a peace ; an nobbut look hah 
 much ahr foine ministers heits up ivvera year e 
 ther sallai-ies : an let's have universal suffiidge anole ; 
 hofe at cuntra's clammm to deeath nah. 
 
 Jack — O'm not exactla a thah opinion, Bil ; 
 thah tokes abaht tministers heitin sallara ; nah o 
 think at tministers has a reit to heit wot they'n a 
 moind, as weel as ouna bodda else ; an as to uni-
 
 20 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 versa! suffrin, thah't quoit aht^ becos if thali'l nobbut 
 look rahnd thee, thab'l see universal suffiin enuff, 
 withaht gen'in a act fort. 
 
 Jerra — Webbut, o avver, o'm not much free- 
 ten 'd abaht stacks beein afoiar, hear's ten toims 
 mooar sed nor's true abaht em. 
 
 Guide — O can tell thee won thing, an that's not 
 two, if thah gooas intot cuntra villidges, an ojjpens 
 the mahth, an wer bahn to say masheen, thah'd be 
 tain up for Swing in a minnit. Heai^'s menna a 
 dozen vilUdges e Yorksher whear they 'r watchin ivvera 
 neet for swing, an thear's been menna a thahsand 
 cunstables swora in tlast four or foive week. Bur 
 o can tell thee, JeiTa, wot we want e this tahn ; we 
 want'n ])lenta a wark, an plenta a brass fort when 
 it's dun ; an then we cud have spoice cake an ale 
 (not Tom an Jerra) an a gud fat pig at Crissmas, 
 as it yus't to be, an then we'd sing. Rule Britanya 
 till we strein'd us wrist. 
 
 Sam MA — O daht we mun ne'er see them toimes 
 
 Jerra — Have a good heart, mun ; thah kno's 
 we'n a Politticle Union e Shevvild nah; it al ge 
 tilings a glorious twist afooar long, moind if it 
 dus'nt ; it kno's all abalit poUaticks throo won end 
 tot tuther. 
 
 An old man from Bradfield (quite alarmed) 
 — A, wot sooart an a thing is it, Jerra? has it been 
 seen afooar ? 
 
 Jack — Not offens ; its not long sin it wer dis- 
 cover 'd ; bur its a vaiTa grate animal, its menni a 
 hunderd hois, an menni a hunderd ears, an menni 
 a hunderd mahths, an menni a hunderd teeth, an it
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 21 
 
 can swell it bodda ta ommast onna soize ; it nivver 
 sleeps, it hois is awlis oppen to see all they dun, an 
 it ears is awlis oppen ta hear all they sen ; an if it 
 sees things dus'nt gooa reit, it oppens menna a 
 himderd mahths, an gees em warnin ; bm if they tain 
 na nooatice wot it says, it swells it hodda to sich a 
 soize, sets liis brissels up skoi hoi, nocks his teeth 
 together, stamps his menni a himderd feel uppat 
 grahnd, shooits flashes a foir aht an his een, wokes 
 slo, bur stedda, an freetens all his enemies into — 
 roighteousness. 
 
 Old Max [tremhling,) — A, o hooap it al ne'er 
 cum to Bradfield. 
 
 Luke Threesquare — Gentlemen, o move at 
 JeiTa Flatback gees us a song. 
 
 Jooa'Slitsprixg — 01 seckond that mooashon ; 
 cum, Jen-a, lad. 
 
 Jerra — Wa, o'l doo me best, an't king can doo 
 no mooar. 
 
 Cum all yo cutlin heroes, where'ersome'er yo be, 
 All yo wot works at flat-backs, cum lissen unto me ; 
 
 A baskitful for a shilliu. 
 
 To mak em we are williu, 
 Or swap em for red herrius, ahr bellies tubbe filUn, 
 Or swap em for red herrius, ahr bellies tubbe fillin. 
 
 A baskit full o' flat backs o'm shure we'l mak, or mooar, 
 To ger reit into't gallara, whear we can rant an rooar, 
 
 Thro' flat-backs, stooaus, an sticks ; 
 
 Red herrius, booaus, an bricks; 
 If they dooant play Nansa's fansa, or onna tune we fix, 
 We'l do the best at e'er we can to braik sum ore ther 
 necks.
 
 22 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Hey, Jout, lad, is that thee, where are ta waddliu too? 
 Dusta work at flat backs yit, as thahs been used to do I 
 
 Hah, cum an tha'st gooa wimma. 
 
 All a sample o will gi'tha; 
 It's won at o've just fooaged uppa Jeffra's bran new stidda; 
 Look at it well, it duz excel all't flat backs e ahr smitha. 
 
 Let's send for a pitcher a' ale, lad, for o'm gemu varra droi ; 
 O'm ommast chooakt we smitha sleek, the woind it is so hoi. 
 
 Ge Rafe and Jer a drop, 
 
 They sen they cannot stop, 
 They're e sich a moita hurra to get to't penny hop. 
 They're e sich a moita hurra to get to't penny hop. 
 
 Here's Steeam at lives at Heela, he'l soon be here, o kno. 
 He's lamt a new ]\Iakkarona step, the best yo ivver saw ; 
 
 He has it sooa compleat. 
 
 He troies up ivvera street, 
 An ommast braiks all't pavors we swattin dahn his feet. 
 An Anak troies to beat him whenivver they dun meet. 
 
 We'l raise a tail be Sunda, Steeam ; o kno whoa's won to 
 
 sell; 
 We'l tee a hammer heead at end, to mr^kit balance well. 
 
 It's a reit new Lunnon tail; 
 
 Wei Mare it kail for kail; 
 Ahr Anak browt it we him, that neet he cum bi't mail. 
 We'l drink success unto it — hey! Jont, lad, teem aht 
 
 t'ale. 
 
 JooA Slitspring — Sup, Jerra ; heah's nobbada 
 can sing that song loik thee yit. 
 
 Luke Threesquare — {Takes up a glass of 
 ale.) — Heah's the heahh, Jooa, an wishin thah ma 
 awlis ger plenty o wark at Corbo's. 
 
 Guide — Jerra, what sooat an a bull week had 
 ta?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 23 
 
 J ERR A — Wlioy, mini, o did pratta weel while 
 Crismas E'em it monin, an then o'd varra bad 
 luck, Thah kno's o thowt o'd ger up at won 
 o'clock, an gooa tumme wai'k. Sooa ahr oud lass 
 wakken'd ma, an o thowt it wor late, sooa o jumpt 
 aht a bed in a hurra, an set off tot shop as hard as 
 ivver o cud gooa ; an as me oud gronfath'er yused 
 to say, mistbrtins is nivver to seek ; o had'nt gon 
 far befooar o run reit on too a bag a soot at sum 
 sweeps had just rear'd up. At first o thowt it wor 
 a watchman asleep, sooa o thowt o'd ge him a grip, 
 an o squeez'd him as hard as ivver o cud; bur 
 when we booath went dahn, he brust, an marcy on 
 me, o'st ne'er forget it, o wor up tot elbers e soot, 
 an me mahth an een wor chok full. Wa, thowt o, 
 mo bull week's spoild at onna rate ; o shall be loik 
 to sahwer sum. O avver, we a bit a trubble, o 
 scrambled tot shop, an as sooin as ivver o lifted trap 
 dooar up an sho'd me soota face, they cut e all 
 direkshons ; sum went aht at winda, an teld em 
 towd lad wor it shop ; won tumbled ore't stooil head 
 furst intot assnook ; anuther shahted, ' Dooant tak 
 me, mester, an o'l nivver blend Jeira's springs no 
 mooar.' Bur at last o perswaded em at hah it wor 
 me, an rare an pleased they wor. 
 
 Guide — Sooat yung rascald begun a confessin 
 his sins, when he thowt he wor bahn tubbe tane, 
 did he ? 
 
 LukeThreesquare — Thah mays me think at 
 Heela Jointer. He wor cummin to't shop abaht 
 hofe past won a Cristmas E'em it monm, we a 
 point a milk in a pitcher, for his brekfast, e won 
 hand, an sum looaf it tuther ; an as he wor turnint
 
 24 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 corner, summat nockt pitcher alit on his hand. 
 ' Wot's that for/ says he, an up we his fist ; when all 
 in a minnit, a jackass set up sich a rote, at made 
 ivvera hair on his heead Stan streit, an away he ran, 
 reit acrosst street, up to't knees in a looad o muck, 
 an thear he stuck, an whoilt jackass roted, he 
 shahted ; hur o avver, we a bit a sprottlin, he ger 
 alit. But thah moinds he wor scented aboon a 
 hit. 
 
 Jack — O reckon yo heeard hah Bob Beanhead 
 diddelt squintin lawyer t'last week, at Owlaton 
 seshons. 
 
 .Terra — Na, o ne'er heeard nowt abaht it : hah 
 wor it ? 
 
 Jack — \Vhoy thah kno's, he wor called in for a 
 witness, an't oud squinlm lawyer thowt he'd run 
 his rigs on him, becos he cum throo Wadsley ; bur 
 Bob sho'd him hah it wor dun. T'lawyer thowt a 
 o'erfacin him we axin him questions. [^It must 
 be observed, that the lawyer s name was Mr. J. 
 Catch.] 
 
 Lawyer. — Well, my man, what do you know 
 about this affair. 
 
 Cutler — Hah, o kno a bit abaht it. 
 
 Lawyer — Come, then, tell us what you know. 
 
 Cutler — Wa, shoo call'd him a varra fahl 
 name. 
 
 Lawyer, (Mimics.) — O, shoo call'd him a 
 fahl name, did shoo ? ( Turns his head to look 
 at the cutler.) How long is it since you was at 
 Wakefield P 
 
 Cutler, — cahnt tell exactla, bur o kno yo 
 an me wor there together.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 25 
 
 Lawyer — Well, well ; but what did you hear 
 the woman say ? 
 
 Cutler — ^\Va, o'l ashooai' ya, ahr Sal an me's 
 been marrid this twenta yeai's, an shoo nivver call'd 
 me hofe sich a fahl name \-it. 
 
 Lawyer — Well, I have nothing to do with your 
 Sal ; but come now, tell us what a ' fahl nam.e ' is. 
 
 Cutler — Wa, thear's a menny fahl names it 
 world ; but hears sum faliler nort tuther ; bur o 
 thinkt fahlest name e all tworld is ' Jack Catch.' — 
 (Loud laughter.) 
 
 Lawyer — [colouring] Well, but what did you 
 hear the woman say ? 
 
 Cutler — Wa, o'd tell ya, bur o'm afeard yo'd 
 be mad. 
 
 Lawyer — (Out of patience) — You c•lo^\^^, why 
 do'nt you speak out what you heard ? 
 
 Cutler — Wa, will ya be mad ? It wer a fahl 
 name yore sartin. [Lawyer appeals to the judge.) 
 
 Judge — Well, my good man, you must tell the 
 learned gentleman what you heard the woman say. 
 
 Cutler — [Bows to the judge) — Yes, sur, o'l 
 tell him ; nobbut o'm afeard he'l be mad. [Looks 
 the lawyer in the face.) Will ya be mad, sur ? 
 
 Lawyer — [Li a rage) — Speak out, nodce ! 
 
 Cutler — Then yo wee ant be mad, will ya?' — 
 Yore shure yo weeant be mad ? Wa, shoo call'd 
 him a squintin fooil. ( Uproarious laughter through 
 out the court.) 
 
 Samma Squarejoint — Hear's luck, lad; \\ish- 
 in thah ma nivver work at flatbacks. 
 
 Jerra — Ahr oud lass has been readin it e sum 
 paper, at hah thear's been a varra shockin accident 
 tain place it East Indies.
 
 26 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Guide — An wot is it, JeiTa ? 
 
 Jerra — Whoy, shoo sez at hali't north powl's 
 brokken, an at hah they're hahu to send all't oud 
 pensioners to mend it. It's suppooas'd at hah 
 Cap tin Parry's ship, wot went aht uppa discoveries, 
 run ageean it won neet it dark ; but they sen it wor 
 crackt, an that'st reeason it's been sich weather 
 abaht nah. 
 
 Jack — Pretha, JeiTa, hah can't north powl be it' 
 East Indies ? Yore oud lass can see dubble, cahnt 
 shoo ? Dustah kno what sooat on a thing 't north 
 powl is, Jerra ? 
 
 Jerra — Hah sloik g doo. Its't gudgen end o't 
 world axeltree, wot sticks aht. 
 
 At this moment there was a gejieral move. 
 The company broke up, and my guide conducted 
 me to my lodgings.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 CONVERSATION III. 
 
 Jack — (Enters and finds them sitting round 
 the fire.) Wotst wheel lame, or is ther nobbut a 
 collar ? 
 
 Bill — Na, lad, t'mane bands brokken, an toud 
 cobbler calmt be fun. They sen he's a freeman o 
 Lincon, an's gon to ge his vooat, to help to mak 
 a nashonal band, as't system may work better. — 
 Wots that thah's getten under thee arm, Jooa ? 
 
 JooA — Whoy its't Merror, o've browt it to let 
 thee look at a queer soign ats in it. Its't rimmiist 
 at ivver o seed : it wor coppid throo a booard ore't 
 dooar a John Grove, a Whoite Waltham, Berks. 
 O'l reed it thee, mun e ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, tubbe shooai", lets have it. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — {reading.) 
 
 John Grove, grocer, and dealer in cofFee and tea, 
 
 Sells the finest Congo's, and the best bohea ; 
 
 A dealer in coppice, a measurer of land ; 
 
 Sells the finest of snuffs, and the finest white sand j
 
 28 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 A singer of psalms, and a scriv'ner of money, 
 
 Collects the land tax, and sells virgin honey ; 
 
 A ragman, a carrier, a baker of bread, 
 
 And a clerk to the living as well as the dead ; 
 
 Vestry clei-k, petty constable, sells scissors and knives, 
 
 Best Virginia and buckles — collects the small tithes ; 
 
 Is a treasurer of clubs, and a maker of wills ; 
 
 He surveys men's estates, and vends Anderson's pills. 
 
 Woollen draper and hosier, sells all sorts of shoes. 
 
 With the best earthenware — also takes in the news; 
 
 Deals in hurdles and eggs, sells the best of small beer. 
 
 The finest sea coals, and's elected o'erseer, 
 
 Deputy sun eyor — sells fine writing paper, 
 
 Has a vote for the county, and linen draper ; 
 
 A dealer in cheese and the best Hampshire bacon ; 
 
 Plays the fiddle divinely, if I'm not mistaken. 
 
 Nah Olid lad it's a topper, issent it ? 
 
 Jack — Wa, it sartanla is a comical soign, but if 
 thahs a moind, o'l bet tbee an odd jill, at o'l mak 
 won e ten minnits as rum as that is, an it shall be 
 desoided bit cumpana. 
 
 JoGA — Well o'l Stan it. {Jack Wheelsivarf 
 retires.) 
 
 JoHNY Els IN — Well, Jooa, o think tliah'l win, 
 for o ne'er seed sitcli a soign e me life, — its so full a 
 contrara things; nobbut think at difference between 
 snufT an whoite sand, woollen draper and ragman, 
 dealer e cheese an small beer ; If Jack beats this, 
 o'st thmk he's jannok o avver. 
 
 BiLLA FoRKDUST — O kiio Jack's a rum stick, 
 but o think he'l be buck'd this toime : o neer seed 
 sitch opposites in a soign nowhere, an o've been e 
 mooast parts at cuntra at won toime or anuther. — 
 He's nobbut two minnits too. — Hear he cums, o'm 
 shure. Thah't just e toime, oud lad.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 29 
 
 Jack — Well, hear it is. 
 
 " Johny Queer, lives hear, boi's oud rags, an sells 
 new ans, taiches music be steeani, linen draper an 
 dealer e horse shoos, muk mai'chant an parish clai'k, 
 pig killer and bellman, an dealer e muffins and muk- 
 forks, honey an soot, red hemns and rasins, spades 
 an peppermint, blackin an bacon, fiddle strings an 
 flah\Yer, troipson trip sticks, barm p-ii sand, pahderan 
 cabbage, beesoms an flannel neet caps, teeth pahder 
 an fish hooks, pickl'd cabbage an dubben, paiTasols 
 an pistils, bears greease an hob nails, pmder an 
 man midvdle, an dealer e all sooarts a hardware but 
 trade." — [Here was a regular laugh, and it teas 
 agreed that Jack had won the wager.) 
 
 Jim Flint — O wer bahn to ax ift trefonn bill 
 pass'd wooa we mut send throo Shev^iid, 
 
 BiLLA — O its full soon to spekilate uppa that 
 yit. Jooa, read us that letter tot Horticultural 
 Society. 
 
 Jooa Crocus, (reads the letter.^ — " ^^Ij wif 
 had a torn cat that dyd, being a torture shell and a 
 gi'ate favourit; we had him berrid in the guarchan, 
 and for the sake of enrichment of the mould, I had 
 the cark's deposited under the roots of a gpsebeny 
 bush ; the frute being up till then of a smooth kind, 
 but the next season s was all haiiy ; and more 
 remai'kable, the catpillars of the same bush was all 
 of the same haiiy description." 
 
 Johny Elsin — That's a corker, oud lad, — 
 Billa, tell us abaht toud bare. 
 
 BiLLA FoRKDUST, — Yo seeu this singilar 
 thing taid place when we wor abrooad, and o shall
 
 30 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 nivver forget it whoil ove a day to live ; we'd been 
 follerin temiama into a wood ommast all't day, an 
 we'd getten so far in at we cud'nt foind trooad 
 alit agean, an we wandered an wandered backaid 
 and forrad, and sum went won rooad, an won went 
 anuther, till it begun to be darkish ; sooa o begun 
 o thinkin where o niut lig all't neet, tubbe aht at 
 gate at woild craturs, an at last o seed an oud hollo 
 tree, we a track reit up sold on't ; soo'a we a bit a 
 txubble o ger up tot top, an sum hah me feet slipt 
 throo under me, an o fell dalmt insoid, reit tot 
 bottom ; bur o moi stars, when o get tot bottom, an 
 fun mesen ui a bare's nest we three yung ans in, o 
 rala thowt o cud'nt hve anuther minnit, lb 'rt hoil 
 wor so woid, o cud'nt ger up agean. Heah's 
 nobboda can gess wot mo I'eehns wor then, for o 
 expected nowt else bur o shud mak a gud supper 
 fort oud bare when shoo cum, an't thowts a havin 
 me blood sukt, an me booans crush't between't jaws 
 of a monstrous bare, freezed me varra blood an 
 paralois'd ivvera limb. Bur I be thowt mesen at 
 oud bare ad cum dahn wit rump furst, an o thowt 
 if o cud but scare her a sum hah, slioo'd happen run 
 up agean, an whoil o wor thinkin dahn shoo cums, 
 an o laid fast oud on her tail we booath me hands, 
 an o squeez'd as hard as ivver o cud ; an as soon as 
 t'oud lass felt summada ad houd on her tale, up shoo 
 went, an rarely o laft, for it wor sich a conveyance 
 as o'd neer travel'd by befooar ; bur, o avver, when 
 we get tot top, o geed her a extra shove, an shoo 
 tumbled tot bottom, an brake her neck an o wor 
 not a bit pleased, yore shooar. Bur o avver o left 
 me lodgins wethaht payin owt ; an as luck ad hav it 
 o get tot regiment same neet — wornt it queer ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. :31 
 
 BiL — Hello ! hear's Jem cummin, ^yot, has 
 ta been e bed whoil nali ? 
 
 Jem Quilback — Hah, o wer up lute tlast neet, 
 an o'd loiken'd to gotten shot anole. 
 
 JoHNY Els IX — Thah had ? Whoy, hah did ta 
 mamiidge that ? Did summada troy to rob thee ? 
 
 Jem — Nou, it ad put em abaht to rob me ; o 
 shud loik to catch em robbin me when o have nowt. 
 O went to seet lass, thah sees, an't oud lawyer 
 heeard us tokin under twinder ; sooa he ger aht a 
 bed, an we heeard him cummin tot winder. Away 
 tlass ran intot brewass, an o squeezed mesen cloice 
 undert winder ast oud chap cud'nt see me, an held 
 t' mop just o'er me heead. " Whooa's thear," he 
 grumbled, hofe asleep an hole wakken, '' if ya 
 dooant spaik, o'l foir ; o'l blow yer heead off, if ya 
 dooant spaik. Whooa's thear ? wonce — whooa's 
 thear ? — twoice ; o nivver miss me aim ; yo'd bet- 
 ter spaik — (o just tum'd t' mop rahnd, an't oud 
 chap made his sen shure he seed me) — whooa's 
 theai* ? three toims," — an then he let floi, an as 
 sooin as he shot, o let t' mop fall. Intot chamber 
 he runs tot woif. " A, mo lass, o've shot a man, 
 o've shot a man ; prethe leet a candle, an gooan 
 look; o seed him fall." Away gooast oud dame 
 intot fowd, to look fort deead man, an't lawyer tot 
 winder. "Dustaisee owt, luv?" "Nowt but t' mop 
 blone e pieces," sez shoo. " Curse the fello," sez 
 he, " o'l turn Sal away directla," an aht he bundled 
 her, neck an heels ; sooa thah sees o wer fooast to 
 bring her to ahr hahce, at it made it late afooar o 
 get to bed. But toud chap ad anuther gooa t' same 
 neet. He had'nt been e bed long afooar he wer
 
 32 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 wakken'd we hearint dooar creeak, just as if it wer 
 bahn to brust oppen. Aht a bed he jumps, lays 
 oud on a rusta daijorei- dahn stairs he oooas varra 
 softla, " o'l sarve em aht this toime," sez he too his 
 sen, when t' dooar geed anuther crack, — he gooas 
 acrost flooar on his tippy tooas, puts his oud dagger 
 tot latch hoil, geed it a reglar thrust, — but moi hoies, 
 t' dooar fioid oj^pen loik leetnin, an sent toud lad we 
 his heead intot assnook, an thear he laid bellorin aht 
 " Tak me munny an spare meloif." An lafiable to 
 tell,'t thief proved to be nobbada bur his awn dtid 
 mare, at had been rubbin her hinder parts agean't 
 dooar, an when shoo felt dagger prick her, shoo up 
 we her heels, an sent booath dooar and her mester 
 too a respectable distance. 
 
 Jack — O sa Jooa, these knoives a Rodgers' is 
 proime ans, amt they ? 
 
 Jooa — Hah, heahs non to beat em, theyrt best 
 putten together of onna it tahn o beleeve. 
 O say. Jack, can thah begin an tell me ivvera 
 thing ats dun at a pen knoife throot furst tot last. 
 
 Jack — Nowo cahnt, nor thee nother, o'm shooar. 
 
 Jooa — Cum, o'st stan an odd glass o Crossland's 
 threepenny at o doo, an thah kno's itst best stuff it 
 tahn. 
 
 Jack^- Webber whooas tubbit judge ? 
 
 Jooa — Whoy, see the, heahs Jooa Slitspring just 
 cummin in, he mim ; thaht shooar he'l foind me 
 haht if o dont tell thee reit. 
 
 Jack — Cum then, start the man. 
 
 Jooa — Wa then o'st begin wit blade makker 
 furst: —
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 33 
 
 1st. He mood'st blade. 
 
 2nd. Then he taiigs it. 
 
 3rd. Then he smithies it. 
 
 4th. Then he hardens an tempers it, an he's 
 dun we't. — Wa then heast spring makker : — 
 
 1st. He moods it. 
 
 2nd. Then he draws tuther end aht an turns 
 it, an's just as menna heats fort scale ; vva then't 
 blade gooas tot wheel tubbe gi'un an sich loik. 
 
 1st. Nah, thah kno's, we awlis gi'omd tang 
 furst, fort mark to be struckn, bur ivverra bodda 
 dus'nt. 
 
 2nd. Then groindt blade. 
 
 3rd, If its a rahnd ended knoife, tangs is glazed 
 an pollisht. 
 
 4th. Then they 'r choil'd if they'r not fether- 
 edged ans. 
 
 5th. Then the}T gi'mi uppat droi stooan. 
 
 6th. Swages is glazed, ant backs, if theyr tubbe 
 pollisht. 
 
 7tli. Wa then theyr lapt. 
 
 8th. An then pohsht, an he's dun we't. — Then 
 heast Cutler's wark al bit warst, bm' o think o 
 can maimidge: — 
 
 1st. He sets scales tot plate. 
 
 2nd. Bores t'scales. 
 
 3rd. Foiles an fits em. 
 
 4th. Nocks em aht an marks springs. 
 
 5th. Rahnds springs, an hardens and tempers 
 em. 
 
 6th. Then he rasps an sets his cuverin. 
 
 7th. Then he matches an pins em on. 
 
 8th. Tak's em dahn an dresses t'edges.
 
 34 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 9th. Nocks em alit an scrapes t'edges at iron scales. 
 
 10th. Puts springs mtot hefts. 
 
 11th. Squar'st blades an dresses em. 
 
 i2th. Nails em in joints an sets em. 
 
 13th. If theyr stag they want heftm. 
 
 15th. Foils't bowsters. 
 
 16th. Rutf buffs t' hefts. 
 
 17th. Ruff glazes 't bowsters. 
 
 18th. Then woips sand off. 
 
 19th. Foine butiis em we oil an rottenston. 
 
 20th. Foine glazest bowsters. 
 
 2 1 St. Then glosses em off, an theyr finisht, amt 
 they, Jooa ? 
 
 JooA — Nou, lad, not sooa, thahs mist two thmgs. 
 Thah'l loise if ta dus'nt moind. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — Wa o can think o nowt else. 
 Wot have e mist, eh ? 
 
 Jooa — Dus'nt thah kno at after 't springs is 
 hardened an temper 'd, theyr glaz'd an burnisht ; an 
 at after he matches an pins em on, he nips em an 
 bores't thick horn hoils, an puts points in. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — Wa mmi, o did'nt owt to lo se 
 for that bit ; bur, o avver, let's just reckon hah 
 menna toimes won part or anuther on em gooas 
 throo us hands. 
 
 Jooa — Wa, then, we'll begin wit blade makker 
 lurst : — 
 
 Blade Makker toimes 4 
 
 Scale an Spring Makker ... toimes 4 
 
 Groinder toimes 8 
 
 Cutler or Setter in toimes 23 
 
 Tota: CO
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 35 
 
 Besoides a memia mooar little jobs, sitch as wettin 
 an vvoipin, &c. 
 
 Jack Emmera — BUI, liasta been tot Crovs 
 wheel latela ? 
 
 BiL — Noil, o think o've ne'er been sin they 
 throde tweelswarf uppa oiid Em — r— n. Wot made 
 thee ax ? 
 
 Jack — Becos o'd a chap at ahr hahce tuther 
 neet at sed they'd begun a drawin teeth be steeam 
 — hasta heeard nowt ? 
 
 BiL — Not a whisper. Diistakno hah they dun ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy't chap tees a peece a band rahnd 
 his tooth, an then fasseas tutJier end tot wheelband, 
 thro'st band on tot drum, an away it gooas ; an ift 
 string ouds fast tot tooth, o'ther his lieead or his 
 tooth gooas we it, 
 
 Billa — O reckon thaht shooar west believe 
 thee? 
 
 Jack — ^AVa, yo can pleeasyer sens; but chap 
 at teld me, seed him do it. 
 
 Jack — O say, Jerra, dus ta kno thah long it is 
 sin ther wer a conjunkshon e this part ? 
 
 Jerra — Not o marra, o kno'd nowt abaht him : 
 there wer wonce a chap at they call'd Ben Jenkisson, 
 atlived at Mahce HoilFooage, but that's tsventayear 
 sin. 
 
 Jack — It's na use tokin to Jerra ; Bil, duz thah 
 kno. 
 
 Bil — Hah, o doo, an rai'cla o laft when o seed 
 it, ol ashooar thee. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, o cahnt see wot ther is to laff at 
 e looking at a conjunkshon. Hah long is it sin, 
 prethe ?
 
 3t> THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — Wa, ue'er moind, tliah'd a laft anole if tad 
 oniia laffin in thee. 
 
 Jack — Wiiear wor ta when ta seed it ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, o wer gooiii up Chetch lane. 
 
 Jack — Wot o'clock wor it ? 
 
 BiL — Abaht hofc-past ale wen it forenoon. 
 
 Jack — Wa, thah art nobbada hardla, to toke 
 abaht seeui a conjunkshon be day leet; prethe 
 dooant tell nobbada that tale no niooar. 
 
 BiL — Webber o did, an o can foind thee hofe a 
 dozen mooar at wer starin at it at same toime. 
 
 Jack — An prethe wot plannits wor they ? 
 
 BiL — Mars an Venus. 
 
 Jack — Hah long is it sin ? 
 
 BiL — Abaht a fcrtnit ; it wer that same day as 
 we kild ahr ])ig. 
 
 Jack — I'haht a monstrous gret loiar, Bil, bur 
 it's no use sayin no mooar abaht it. 
 
 BiL — Thaht short a faith. Jack, bur o avver,o'] 
 tell thee hah it wor, an then thahl be satisfoid at its 
 possable to see a conjunkshon be day leet. Wa, 
 thah sees, hear wer won at barrack officers runnin 
 as hard as he cud, out Brinsed Orchai'd street, an 
 at same time a foine young lady wer runnin upt 
 Chetch lane, an they booath met at comer together, 
 we sitch a colsh, at he carried her hofe ont street 
 befooar he cud stop his sen ; an if that wornt a con- 
 junkshon, o ne'er seed won. 
 
 Jack — O'l ge in to tliee, Bil ; thaht rayther to 
 menny for me this toime. 
 
 Jack Emmera — Wot, is ther onna news nah ? 
 
 Bil — Whoy, bear's Bell's Loif hear, bur o think 
 hear's nowt but dog feitin, an man feitin, an bettin,
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 37 
 
 tin cliallengin ; bur o siippooast Couvaiit sez at hah 
 Xicholas wants to doo just as he loiks we us an 
 France. 
 
 Jack — O'l tell thee wot, Billa, o ne'er loik to 
 read Bell's Loif, o dooant loik it ; it'st biggist 
 blackguard paper at cums aht a Luniion. meean 
 to say at sich papers as that does mooar towards 
 demoiTaloizin prentis lads e England, nor all't 
 athisticle gabble at ivver wer publisht ; he'st advo- 
 cate a that mooast inhuman system, at gooas bit 
 foine smooth name a self-defence, — alias, man-man- 
 gling. A chap's lookt on as nobbada e their hoi, 
 withaht he's qualifoid to nock his naber's een up 
 whenivver he lansa's his sen offended. A man 
 battle, a dog battle, or a cock battle cahnt tak 
 place nowhear, but they'r publisht e their durta 
 coUums, an surkillated all o'er England, to harden 
 an blunt feelins at roisin generashon. iSIen wer 
 made social beins, an^ o suppooaz accooardin to 
 Bell's nooation a this verta, it consists e braikin 
 won anuther's ribs an jaws, crackin ther skulls, an 
 nockin ther een up, &c. ; van-a foine indeed. Mas- 
 ter Bell's Loif ! But he dus'nt stop here ; bein 
 sunk tot lowest pitch o depravata, he's ne'er better 
 pleeasd nor when he's feastin his holes uppat man- 
 gled limbs on bis awn dog wot's been torn to pieces 
 o'ther to gratifoi his fiendish passions, or to win for 
 him a beggerla troifle a mumia ; an these ist lessins 
 a morallata at Bell's Loifs taicliin throot countra. 
 
 BiL — Well dun. Jack, thah's oppen'd on him at 
 last, an if yer all in a m.oind, we'l tak it in na 
 mooar. 
 
 JooA — Wa thah man mak a mooation ont, an
 
 38 THE SKKFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 then have it put, for o'm nooa frend to boxin nor 
 dog-feitiii no'ther. 
 
 BiL — Gentlemen, o \Yish to moveatwe dooant tak 
 Bell's Loif in onna mooar. 
 
 Jo'OA — O seckand that mcoation. 
 
 Jack — Gentlemen, it's been moved be Bil 
 Heftpoip, an seckanded be Jooa SHtspring, 
 at we discontinna takin Bell's Loif in ; them 
 gentlemen wot thinks at Bell's Loifs not a 
 fit paper to cinn whear thear's prentis lads, on ac- 
 cahnt of its demoiTaloizin tendency, al signifoi't 
 
 same be l.oadin upt reit hand contrary opinion — 
 
 non, non, non. Ymianimous. 
 
 Jooa. — O say, Sam, hah long is it sin thah wor 
 lock't up all't neet e York minster ? 
 
 Sam Splendall — O, it must be sev'nteen 
 year sin. 
 
 Jim Flint — Wot wor thah ivver lock't up e 
 York INIinister all't neet ? did'nt ta see na ghosts 
 an sitch loik, — hah did it happen, Sam ? 
 
 Sam — Whoy thah see's it wor when we wor 
 quarter 'd there, an sooa v>-on Sunday neet o went 
 tot fore o'clock prayers, lai gers iiitot organ gallarra 
 an fell fast asleep, an they all went away an lockt 
 me in, an o nivver wakkened whoil abaht twelve at 
 neet, when o fun mesen ommast stiffen 'd we cowd ; 
 (for it wor Crismas ;) wot to doo o cud'nt tell, for 
 it wor so dark at o cud'nt a seen a ghost if ther'd 
 been onna. O avver o woke't abaht an clapt me 
 hands to me soides, til at lust o heeard Jerra 
 cummin to ring't six o'clock bell, an o kno'd he'd 
 be fooast to cum throo't organ gallai'a ; sooa up't 
 itcps he cums an unlockst dooar, an just when he
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 39 
 
 wor cummin in, o says too him, "A Jerra, o'm glad 
 thali't cum" : — but my stars ! he smasht lantern 
 uppat flooar, an ommast flew dalmt steps ; aht at 
 minster he ran. — "Wotst matter, Jerra, wotst 
 matter ?" sed a man at seed himrunnin so fast :' "the 
 
 d ^I's it minster," says Jerra ; sooa o went to 
 
 Jerra's hahce to perswade him at it wor me ; but 
 not sooa, there wor nooa gemn Jerra into minster 
 that monin. 
 
 JooA — See thee. Jack, whooas this foine man ats 
 cumin ? 
 
 Jack — O kno'nt lad; bur he's non cumin to 
 see us. 
 
 JooA — Yabber he is ; he s just tum'd corner, 
 {Enter a Gentleman) . 
 
 Gent — Well Jack, I have just been looking at 
 your observations * upon the eloquent speech 
 delivered by Mr. Palfreyman, in Paradise-square. 
 
 Jack — Yo ban ! an wot dim yo think abaht 
 em, eh ? 
 
 Gent — Why, I think if you had only clothed 
 your ideas in better language, they would have 
 made a deeper impression on the public mind. 
 
 Jack — Hah, bur o ha'nt had t'larnin as yo ban; 
 bur, muR, okno wots wot — an for all o'm a groinder 
 o'm not so soft as e look. 
 
 Gent — Well, well. Jack, I don't think you are 
 a fool ; yet it is my opinion that some parts of your 
 letter border rather too much upon the marvellous. 
 
 Jack — Hah, an wot part's that, eh ? 
 
 * See the letter addressed to the Editor of the Sheffield 
 Courant, entitled " A Groinder's Opinion," &c.. on a 
 succeeding page.
 
 40 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Gent — I refer to those parts relative to that 
 new faiigled system called Phrenology. 
 
 Jack — Oh, oh, then yore not a frenollogist, o 
 see. 
 
 Gent — No, no ; I detest such hifidel systems 
 — they lead to nothing hut downright Atheism. 
 
 Jack — Houd,houd, sm- ; dooant be m a pashon ; 
 let ahodda spaik. O wonce wer as much ageean 
 it as yo wor ; hut o axed a chap a question abaht 
 it, an he sed at hah o mut look for me sen ; an 
 sooa o did, an o fun it all reit. 
 
 Gent — What ! do you mean to affirm that the 
 doctrines of phrenology are founded upon reason ? 
 
 Jack — Hah, o doo; an o'l lig yo tuppence o can 
 ma it aht. 
 
 Gent. — Well, Jack, as I cannot stay long with 
 you, I'll propose a question, which I think will 
 puzzle the best of you. 
 
 Jack — Cum then ; aht we it. 
 
 Gent. — We will suppose a man has the organ 
 of theft, and is in practice a thief; but on account 
 of a sudden conversion to Christianity, he becomes 
 an honest man. In this case, a phrenologist would 
 be deceived ; because whenever he finds this organ 
 developed on the cranium he concludes at once the 
 man is a thief, or his science is fallacious. 
 
 Jack — O see yore objekshons tot doktrin is 
 fahnded uppa yer ignorance. 
 
 Gent — What do you mean by that ? Do you 
 mean to insult me ? 
 
 Jack — Wa, sur, o meean as o say, becos there's 
 nother t'organ a theft nor murder, e frenollogy. 
 
 Gent — Why, it is the current opinion that there
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 41 
 
 is an organ of theft, and that the subject cannot be 
 otherwise than a thief. 
 
 Jack — O it'st current oppinion, is it ? An sooa 
 yore a gentleman a larnin, an yo thinkn at hah't 
 doktrin a frenollogy's belt uppa t'rottan fahndashon 
 a public oppinion, eh ? Yore a rattler, o avver. 
 Yo mun look for yer sen as o did. 
 
 Gent — Well, Jack, you are very bold ; but yo u 
 will noL deny that in this science there is the organ 
 of music, and that every one possessing it must, of 
 course, be a musician. 
 
 Jack — Wot ! dmi yo mean at hah he ma sing 
 withaht a voice, an fiddle withaht laniin ? It 
 dus'nt taich sooa; bur it taiches at if a chap's 
 gettn t'organ o music an I'organ a perseverance, 
 he ma, we applikashon, mak a musishon. 
 
 Gext. — Well, Jack, 1 see no wonderful utility 
 in that discovery. 
 
 Jack — Yo dooant ! Wa, o think yo ha'nt 
 gettn t'organ o disarnmeiit then. Nah, suppooas 
 at yo wor a frenolleger, an yo'd a child, — a lad 
 we'll say, — an yo discover t'organ of distruktivness, 
 an t'organ of akquissilivness u])])a his skull, yo mut 
 trane him up e babbits which is o])posit to them two 
 things, an he'll stan a better chonce a beein booath 
 honnest an koind nor all t'lamin at caddemies ad 
 mak him. 
 
 Gext. — Well, Jack, you astonish me. I begin 
 to think there is more reason in this science than I 
 was aware of. But 1 heard that Dr. Spurzheim 
 said that Christianity should be scouted out of the. 
 world ; and so I thought his system bordered upon 
 Atheism.
 
 42 tup: SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Wa, if he did say scoa, o think he'd getn 
 t'organ a madness ; for o'l venter, we Irenollogy 
 a me soid, to tak onna athisticle wark at wer ivver 
 scroled, an, we won single strooak, dash it to hat- 
 toms, 
 
 Gent. — Well, Jack, if you do that, I think you 
 will convert me. 
 
 Jack — Wa, o'm saltan o can. 
 
 Gent. — Well, Jack, be as concise as possible, 
 for I am almost suffocated with dust. 
 
 Jack — Hah, its not loik bein e yore pailor ; bur 
 o'l sooin doo it. Nah, yo knone at hali't athisses 
 sen at torganoization at brane is enuff to produce 
 thowt ; but frenollogers sez at hah't brain is nobbut 
 torgan at moind maks itsen knone we ; an sooa yo 
 ma see at a strooak at hah frenollogy geest deeatly 
 blow to athism. 
 
 Gent — Well, I must be honest ; I cannot an- 
 swer to these things. But I cannot stay, the dust 
 is so oppressive. Farewell, Jack ; and I shall be 
 glad to see you at my house. 
 
 Jack — Fai'ewell, sur. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — Oud chap, he cums up we nowt 
 hardla ; but thah's gen him a corker, o avver. 
 
 Jack — Hah, an o cud a gen him mooar if he'd 
 stopt. Thah sees, we all his larnin he knode nowt 
 abalit it. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — Is he cummin to ahr wheel 
 ageean. Jack ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, o'm to gooa to their hahce. 
 
 Jooa Crocus — Thah art ? Moi hoi, oud lad, 
 thah'l be reit enuff thear — they'n a rare tap. 
 
 Jack — O think e me heart, Jooa, thah's getn't
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 43 
 
 organ a guzzlin ; for thalit awlis ravin after swill. 
 Pretha oud the noise, an ger on we the wark. But 
 vvhooa's this wol's cummin ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, its Figaro.* 
 
 Jack — Good momin, mester Fig ; hah dun ya 
 dco ? 
 
 Figaro — Quite well, Jack : I have just been 
 delighted with a sight of one of the most beautiful 
 horses that my eyes ever beheld. 
 
 Jack — Yo han ? o wish o had him; adder say 
 it'st same as o seed yisterda, an o wisht it wer 
 moine. 
 
 Figaro — It is very vNTong to covet other peo- 
 ple's property. 
 
 Jack — O kno its wi-ang ; but hah can abodda 
 help it ? Wot'st cause a sitch a sin, think ya ? 
 
 Figaro — Cause ! why, the sensation of sight, to 
 be sure ; for it is plain enough, if you had 
 not seen it, you would not have coveted it. 
 
 Jack — Good stars, man ! this is a new doctrine. 
 Can t' sensation a seet be't cause of a covetous 
 principle ? Nah suppooas o'd nobbut seen it we 
 won hoi, shud o be as guilta as if o'd seen it we 
 two ? 
 
 Figaro — Most certainly not ; and if you had 
 shut the other eye, you would not have been guilty 
 at all. 
 
 Jack — Then o see clear enuff, at if o mun avoid 
 moral evil, o mun be blufted. But suppooas o vver 
 to steyl this horse, an be tain up an troid, an fun 
 
 * The name of a low •weekly periodical, freqiiently at 
 war with the author, and the notorious vehicle of obscene 
 ribaldry and infidelity, long since extinct.
 
 44 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 guilty, wud tliey put me holes aht for bein't cause 
 on me steylin It ? 
 
 Figaro — No, blockhead ! they would hang thee 
 by the neck until thou wert dead, dead, dead ! 
 
 Jack — Wa, that's not fair to hang me neck for 
 wot me holes did. But houd a bit, Fig ; o think 
 thaht a bit muddled. O begin to think at hah me 
 holes had varra little to do we't, no mooar nor bein't 
 medium throo which me moind perceives, an after 
 sitch perception me depraved principle covets ; an 
 when this is put into action a chap begins a thievin. 
 Sooa its clear enuffat this evil did'nt cum aht a me 
 holes, becos it did'nt exist whoil covetousness created 
 it. Thah reeasonin, mester Fig, s'just as silly as a 
 chap wot ad say at his holes wert cause a leet, becos 
 if he had'nt oppen'd em, he'd ne'er a seen it. 
 
 BiL — Figaro al ge thee sum blackin. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, tubbe shooar he will, becos he 
 deeals e nowt else. 
 
 BiL — O say Jack, o heard say at thah's had't 
 impidence to send Carloile a challenge when he 
 wor e Shevvild tuther week is it true ? 
 
 Jack — Hah that shall be true. 
 
 BiL — Wot, then, wud'nt he cum up ? 
 
 Jack — O'venivver heard a word, oca'nt tell wots 
 reason. 
 
 BiL — Wot wor't subject ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy here's a copy on it. 
 
 " Mr. Carlile — Sir, — I understand that you 
 have challenged any man to discuss any religious 
 subject. Now if you will write upon a subject 
 which I will propose, I hereby challenge you to
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 45 
 
 produce a more rational account of the origin of 
 man than that given in our scriptures, and I will 
 either refute it, or publicly confess my inability, 
 for I consider that if the scripture doctrine of the 
 origin of man can be overturned, the Christian 
 scheme must fall. — Yours, &c. A.' B." 
 
 BiL — An so he dar'nt meddle, eh ! O fancy 
 its rather a puzzling subject for em ; for theyn a 
 vast menny oppinions abaht t'orrigin a man ; 
 won chap says at hah we came be chonce, an 
 another says at hah we nivver came at all. Nah 
 that chap must be v*"rang, because we're sure we're 
 here. Then another chap says at first woman at 
 ivver wor seen wor fan in a forest, but hah shoo got 
 there he cud'nt tell. An o think its varra weel 
 Carloile did'nt leet on her, becos if shoo 'd happened 
 to be ill-tempered he'd neer a mamed her. Get 
 em uppa this subject an yo'l soon find a soft place 
 e ther nappers. 
 
 JooA — We'n been teld be won a these woise 
 men at hah nater produced animals, an at hah e 
 toime shool mak sum mooar. 
 
 Jerra — Wa, that's true enuff', becos thah kuo's 
 nater maks maggots nah, an sich loik. 
 
 i JooA — O shud think we'st have a fresh plate it 
 next creation. 
 
 Jerra — Hah, we'st happen have a set a black 
 teeth, anuther mahth sum\Ahear, an ears wot al 
 reych dahn too us shoo heels, an then they'l doo to 
 lap us sens in e steead a sheets. 
 
 Jooa — As for black teeth, o shud'nt think much 
 abaht that, becos there's a good menny nah wots
 
 A6 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 ravther soota ; but for havin anutlier mahth, that's 
 alit a all reeason, becos we'n summat to doo to fill 
 this we ban ; an as for long ears at ta talks on, o 
 shud ne'er loik to run't risk a bein lugg'd fort 
 sake a caiTyin nie awn sheets wimma. 
 
 J ERR A — Buto thhik this a softish spekilation, Jooa. 
 
 JooA — Just as soft as Carloile's tale abaht men, 
 women, and childerlivin it sea, sum we one leg, an 
 sum we a tail, &c. 
 
 Jerra — Whoy is Carloile 't author a sitch stuff as 
 that ^ 
 
 JooA — Whooa 't author is o dooant kno, bur o 
 kno at Dicka publish 't it, an suppooaseJ it true. 
 
 Jerra — There's a chap at are shop v.ot says he 
 has'nt a soul. 
 
 JooA — Hah does he kno ? 
 
 Jerra — Whoy becos he says he's ne'er seen it, 
 nor felt it, nor heeard it, nor tasted it, nor smelt it. 
 
 JooA — Wa it ad be rayther odd if he'd smelt ii ; 
 but did he ne'er feel his sen think, an will, an judge, 
 an sich loik ? (An injidel overhears them, steps 
 in, an ansicers.) 
 
 Infidel — Well then, according to your own 
 account tliere are four out of the five senses against 
 you. 
 
 Jerra — Webbut, dun 30 beleeve it existence a 
 pain, when yer tooth akes ? 
 
 Infidel — Most certainly. 
 
 Jerra — Did yo ivver see a pain, sur, or heear 
 one, or smell one, or taste one ? 
 
 Infidel — No. 
 
 Jerra — Wa then there's fore aht at foive ageean 
 yo ; dun ya believe it ? 
 
 Infidel — I am compelled to beheve it.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 TOT PUBLIC. 
 
 Ahr readers are already aware at a gang a 
 persons, radical reformers, alias free-thiDkers, are 
 deteniiinately and brutally bent iippat destruction 
 of all loyal, religious, and moral feeling, partik- 
 kelarly it lower classes o this populous talm. Nah, 
 it's abr intention to upset this mob — that's ahr 
 object; an we'll attain it, even tho' i^ cost us life 
 and fortin. It's pratty weel knone at the Great 
 Mogul o this faction has lately paid a visit to this 
 tahn, and has been sowing the seeds of corruption 
 in the moinds of the inhabitants. It shall be ahr 
 place to root em up. This we will do ! — this we can 
 do. An when we'n getn bond on em, we'll scatter 
 em to the fury of the whirlwind, that they may be 
 hurl'd into eternal oblivion. We mo'nt — nay, we 
 cahnt bear lo see't roisin generation coiTupted; 
 nother can we allow this unnatural gang to go 
 unpunished. We shall, therefore, it pages a this 
 book^. houd up the dogmas of these craturs e ther
 
 48 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 true colours, an we'll furnish ivvera prentis lad we 
 arguments which will enable him to mock, even to 
 madness, any infidel who may be soft enuff to enter 
 the list with him, for v>e hesitate not to say, at we 
 can tak the principles of infidels from Gibbon an 
 Hmne, down to that dirty cratur, Carloile, an we won 
 single strooak we ahr intellectnal musher, shivver em 
 to atoms. One word more, an w'en dun. Ahr readers 
 will see at once at hah we'n improved a good deal in us 
 spellin sin we last appeai'ed it litterary w'orld. Indeed 
 there's no helpinit, for there's so many ways an means 
 to obtain knowledge nah-days, at we should be con- 
 sidered the most stupid blockheads in existence if 
 wo did'nt mend anole. O avver, we hope at if 
 ivver w'en occasion to cum before t'public again, 
 we'st he able to show em an unbeatable specimen 
 both of grammar an logic. It litterary lowerw^orld 
 we are already supreme, and we may safely leave 
 the middle and higher classes to the care of Mr. 
 Smith. 
 
 Your's respectfully, 
 
 JACK WHEELSWARF. 
 
 CONVERSATION IV. 
 
 Jack Wheelswarf — Well, Bil, has ta seen 
 Gemini's reply to ahr Chronicle ?* 
 
 * Gemini, a writer in Figaro, the publication before 
 referred to. Our readers should bear in mind that these 
 conversations were first published under the title of " The 
 JFfieekwarf Chronicle."
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 49 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — OVe seen a thing wots nick-- 
 named a reply. 
 
 Jack — Well, wot thinks ta abaht it ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, he begins his nominy we a can tin 
 sort an a tale abaht labourin under disadvantages 
 on their side of the question ; that they dare not 
 say all they can for fear of pains and penalties. 
 
 Jack — Wot a larom. Theyn sed all they knew 
 long sin. But thah kno's, Bill, this poor thing, 
 Gemini, is a creature of necessity, therefore he had 
 no choice but to say what he has sed, soft as it is ; 
 an thahl ne'er blame him for doing wot he cud'nt 
 help doing. 
 
 BiL — Oh ! oh ! Necessity caused him to tell 
 loies, did it ? Now, to tell a wilful falsehood is a 
 moral evil ; therefore, necessity, in this case, is 
 the cause of moral evil, and not sensation. But, 
 o avver, if he's nobbut done what he cud'nt help, 
 its no'ther his misfortune nor his foult. When 
 he says at gentlemen on their side the question 
 labour under disadvantages, he says a necessary 
 falsehood, which falsehood we shall necessarily 
 prove to be unnecessary. For instance, Carlile 
 comes to Sheffield ; takes the Theatre, challenges 
 a religious public to discuss religious subjects, 
 without the least mterruption from the powers that 
 be ; nay, they have imprudently, and from in- 
 terested motives, arrogated to themselves the right 
 to insult a Christian community, not only by their 
 abominably filthy language, but by exposing in 
 their windoAvs the most horrid pictures of things 
 which are considered the most sacred ; an then 
 this thing cries out, " It is needless to expatiate on 
 
 E
 
 50 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 tlie courage of one man (a Chiistian, too,) who 
 throws clown the gaimtlet to another whom he knows 
 to be fettered," &c. Pray who threw the gauntlet 
 first ? Did not Carlile ? You first give a chal- 
 lenge ; and when you are foiled, as we foiled you in 
 our last Chronicle, you begin to pull a long pitiful 
 fiddle lace ; " O we dai-'nt say all we can for fear of 
 pains and penalties ;" when the fact is, the very 
 biggest, and best, and wisest, of all yer gang calint 
 advance a smgle argument fit for a dog to grin 
 at. 
 
 Jack — But hark the Bil, he's just been charg- 
 ing Christians with gi'oss perversion of the obvious 
 meaning of a sentence ; and when we sed we would 
 upset that mob, meaning their principles, viz. — by 
 she\\ing their absurdity, what sort of trickery does 
 this honest infidel resort to ? listen ; — " Now here 
 is a specimen of baseness and illiberality. Here is 
 a sample of the mild and tolerant spirit of a 
 Christian. He tells you that if he cannot 
 accomplish his puq^ose by fair means he will by 
 foul ; that when his reasoning fails to attain his 
 ends ; he will call in the aid of fraud and force." 
 Now the above is the construction of a creature of 
 necessity — a gentleman infidel! — a Latin scholai' ! 
 — Well, well, he'd no choice but to say so ; its all 
 a case of necessity. 
 
 Bil — O wish o had houda that rascal Necessity, 
 o'd give him sich a drubbin we mo intellectual 
 rausher as should mak him necessarily remember it 
 as long as ivver necessity necessitated him to tell 
 lies. Religion's in a tottering state, he says; but 
 what state is infidelity in, whilst Carlile dare not
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 51 
 
 accept the challenge of a poor mechanic of Sheffield, 
 and has smce refused to answer another in Man- 
 chester, and one at Barnsley ! 
 
 Jack — Well, then, here's another necessary 
 falsehood palmed upon us. He says that we are 
 the mouth-piece of a certain party. But are we ? 
 No, we are not now, and never were ; we stand 
 single handed, always have done, and always will 
 do. We have seen the time when we have kicked 
 five or six of these necessary creatures before us 
 with ease, and we rejoice that we are now intellec- 
 tually stronger than ever. We remember that 
 Voltaire sed he would upset Christianity ; but has 
 he ? No. If, then, the giant infidels ol the 
 French Revolution who massacreed two or three 
 milHons of human beings, could not, how shall the 
 pigmy scavengers of our day do it ? 
 
 BiL — Nah then for't reply ; in which we find 
 every argument in ahr Chronicle evaded. Ommast 
 first thmg at o seed setsme a laughing till me sides 
 ached. Gemini says, very seriously, at hah Carlile 
 nivver wor a tinker : no, no, not a tinker, nother. 
 
 Jack — Well, well, we'd been teld at hah he 
 wor. Wot wor he, prethy ? 
 
 BiL — Guess. 
 
 Jack — A cobbler, happen. 
 
 BiL — Nay, guess again. 
 
 Jack — I shahnt : if ta kno's, tell us. 
 
 BiL — Whoy, he says he wor a tinner an brazier. 
 (A laugh.) 
 
 Jack — Cum, cum, we womt far oflT, o avver; 
 but o say, Bil, just twig him here ; he sez he 
 kno's nowt abaht Carlile 's moral mamdge ! another 
 necessary lie, o fancy.
 
 52 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — Wot, not know nowt ; cum, this al do ; 
 it's to dirty for em ; o loik this. But he says 
 Carlile's going to explain ; when he knows very 
 well he has explained. And what is he going to 
 do ? he's going to publish all the correspondence 
 between his infallible self and that immaculate for- 
 nicatress. Miss Sharj^les, his present moral wife. 
 But let's get on to another necessary flilsehood. 
 Gemini says that we adduced no proof that organi- 
 zation was not the cause of sensation. 
 
 Jack — We proved it, and we again assert, that 
 mere organization, destitute of action, cannot pos- 
 sibly be the primary cause of any thing ; nay, a man 
 may have ocular demonstration of such a fact, if he 
 plettse. Pray, what effects would the organization of a 
 steam engine produce without any power? Every 
 one knows that it could produce none. But, says 
 Gemini, " take away from us the five senses, which 
 are the media of all knowledge, and you would de- 
 prive us of our thoughts, or that bone of contention, 
 the mind." Now this is what an Irishman would 
 call advancing backwards. We are told in the 
 above passage, that the five senses are the media of 
 all knowledge ; and so we said m our last Chronicle; 
 and so we say again. And we also say, that that 
 which receives knowledge, through such media, is 
 the soul, the immaterial, thinking principle : but, 
 says Lawrence, " take away from the mind of man, 
 the five external senses, and the functions of the 
 brain, and what will be left behind ? " The day is 
 coming when Mr. Lawrence will know what, says a 
 certain writer. " We admit the sympathetic con- 
 nexion (who has ever called it in question ?) be-
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 53 
 
 tween the organ and the immaterial principle ; nay 
 we admit, that every act of tlie mind involves some 
 mechanical act of the hrain. But we maintain, that 
 what sets the mechanism in motion is not, and cannot 
 be matter, because matter is incapable of spontaneous 
 ly changing its own state." So much, then, for the 
 senses, and as for om* argument on moral evil, it 
 stands untouched, and we know that it is beyond 
 the jDower of any twin, or all the infidel t^ins in 
 existence to overthrow. 
 
 BiL — Well, then, wot's next ? 
 
 jAck — Why he says at " all men grant that it 
 is utterly impossible for a man to avoid committing 
 sin," an then it next page, he says "Man is a 
 creature of necessity." What a contradiction. 
 Well, then we'n a quotation throo IVIirabeau, 
 the first sentence of which is unintelligible : no 
 infidel m the world can make common sense of it, 
 " jMan's life is a Hue that nature commands him to 
 describe upon the earth." Who can tell what is 
 meant by natme commanding men's actions ? And 
 then he says at a man " Is good or bad, happy or 
 miserable, &c., without his will going for any thing 
 in these various states." If, then, a man be a 
 thief, he is a tliief without his will. Is he ? It 
 sounds rather ])aradoxical, too. I do believe this 
 at when a man's gomg to be hanged for his tliieving, 
 his will goes for nowt, for if it went for any thng, 
 it v/ould be for him not to be hanged, but Jack 
 Ketch won't let it. >7ow let us suppose the thief 
 in a Court of Justice. 
 
 Magistrate — Well, my good man, what was 
 the reason that you committed the crime of which 
 you stand accused ?
 
 54 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Prisoner — Why, sir, I tliiiik it's very unjust 
 to bring me here for doing what I couldn't help ; — 
 it was all necessitij. 
 
 Magistrate — Do you mean to say that you 
 were actually starving for want, and that, therefore, 
 yon did it only to preserve your life ? 
 
 Prisoner — O no, sir, you quite mistake me. 
 The line of my life, sir, is described to me by 
 nature, from which it is impossible for me to 
 swerve ; and, sir, it happens that the line which 
 nature has described to me is a thieving one.' I 
 am. Sir, a creature of necessity, and have no choice 
 but to act as I have acted. — [^Here the magistrate 
 retires for a while.] 
 
 Prisoner — Mine's a hard case. 
 
 A Fellow with a long stick — Silence, 
 sirrah, here's t'magistrate coming. 
 
 Magistrate — Well, my man, I believe you 
 are out of the reach of all law ; for all the laws in 
 existence are founded on the principle of free agency. 
 
 Counsellor — Now, my good man, you have 
 made such an excellent defence, if you will come to 
 my house in the morning, I will mcxke yuu a present 
 of five sovereigns. 
 
 Prisoner — {Touches his hat.) Thank you. 
 Sir, I'll take care and go. 
 
 Magistrate — Hollo ! what's that you say ; 
 you'l take care and go ; I thought you had been a 
 creature of necessity. You said nature had 
 described to you a certain line from which you 
 could not swerve ; but now you are describing 
 aline to nature; you have, at the sound of five 
 pounds, made up your mind to act; and in the
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 55 
 
 morning, in spite of nature's line, you will go for 
 the cash. 
 
 Prisoner — Yes, Sir, but I shall go from neces- 
 sity. 
 
 Magistrate — But I'll take care you do'nt. 
 Gentlemen of the Jury, bring in your verdict. 
 {The Jury retires for a while, and returns a ver- 
 dict of Guilty.) 
 
 Magistrate — I am now under the painful ne- 
 cessity of necessarily informing the prisoner at the 
 bar, that it is necessary for me to necessitate him, 
 necessarily to leave the countiy. You will there- 
 fore be necessarily transported beyond the seas, 
 there of necessity to stay for the necessary term of 
 seven years, and so then there will be an end of 
 your necessary thieving. 
 
 BiL — Well, then Gemini refers agean to 
 alu- Chronicle, and says that we sent ahr challenge 
 when we knew that Mr. Carloile's stay in Sheffield 
 was concluded. Now, we wish the public particularly 
 to notice this, because they have made so much ado 
 about it ; for the fact is, Caiiile received our challenge 
 on the Friday, and he left the town on the Saturday, 
 a day sooner than he expected, according to his own 
 statement. But why not accept it at any time ? 
 He might have written in his own Wash Tub Ga- 
 zette, and possibly it might have been more inter- 
 esting than the bombastical Tom-Paine-nonsense, 
 for which he makes his dupes pay at present. 
 These poor deluded creatures remind me of the 
 old woman who went from house to house begging 
 ale, and it was all very good : at last they gave the 
 old lady some swill ; — " 0, it's very good," said
 
 5G THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 she ; and so it is vdth Carloile's admirers. It's no 
 matter what kind of unconnected jargon, or however 
 monstrously absurd, their cry is, it's all very good. 
 A man said, the other day that Cai'loile had con- 
 firmed him in his opinion, although (said the man) 
 I could not understand what he meant by what he said. 
 Jack — Now, we have heai'd very frequently of 
 the honesty of these free-thinkers; they say we 
 only want the truth, and, especially, w^e detest the 
 man that would either alter or pervert any sentence 
 to suit his own purpose ; but w hat is their practice ? 
 We have a very fine sample of their honesty in 
 Gemini's quotation from Ecclesiastes ; — Solomon 
 says, chap. 3rd, verse 21st, "Who knoweth the spirit 
 of man that goeth upward ?" Gemini makes him say, 
 ' Who knoweth the spirit of man that it goeth upward.' 
 Solomon continues, " and the spirit of the beast 
 that goeth downward to the earth." Gemini con- 
 tinues, " and the spirit of the beast that it goeth 
 downwai'd to the earth." Our readers will see that 
 the word " it " is not in the text ; and they will also 
 see the baseness of the man who would thus sacri- 
 fice his reputation at the shrine of Atheism. The 
 despicable wickedness of the attempt stamps infamy 
 on the cause it is designed to serve. However, in 
 the next place, we have Gemini's account of the 
 origin of the New Testament. " A set of priests 
 (says he) who called themselves the Council of 
 Nice, being in possession of a lot of Jewish fables, 
 got up the New Testament, as w^e have it at the 
 present day." Now this wonderful discovery 
 of the origin of the New Testament, according 
 to Gemini's account, is no origin at all, but
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT" 57 
 
 merely a compilation of books already written. 
 If Gemini or any of his brethren can tell us who 
 vrroie these books, they may then venture to 
 state their origin ; but what he has advanced is 
 false. For it can be proved that the Canon 
 of Sciipture was determined immediately after 
 the death of St. John, the last survivor of the 
 ApostoHc order. The Canon of the Gospels 
 was determined, indeed, before his death, for we 
 read in Eusebius that he gave his sanction to 
 the three other Gospels, and completed this part 
 of the New Testament with his own. And by 
 the death of John, the catalogue of Scripture 
 was completed and closed. But, it may be 
 asked, by whom was the Canon of Scripture de- 
 termined ? It was determined — not by the de- 
 cision of any individual, nor by the decree of 
 any council, but by the general consent of the 
 whole and every part of the Christian Church : 
 it is, indeed, a very remarkable circumstance 
 that, among the various disputes which so early 
 agitated the Church, the Canon of Scriptm-e was 
 never the subject of controversy. The reason 
 of this agreement is a very satisfactoiy one. 
 Every one who is at all versed in Ecclesiastical 
 History, is aware of the continual intercourse 
 which took place in the Apostolic age, between 
 the various branches of the Church imiversal. 
 This communication arose out of the Jewish 
 polity, under which the various synagogues of 
 the Jews, which were dispersed throughout the 
 Gentile world, were all subject to the sanhedrim 
 at Jerusalem, and maintained a constant corres-
 
 58 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 pondence with it. Whenever, then, an epistle 
 arrived at any particular church, it was first au- 
 thenticated, it was then read to all the holv 
 brethren, and was subsequently transmitted to 
 some other neighbouring church. Thus, we 
 find that the auihentication of the Epistles of St. 
 Paul was " the salutation of his ovvn hand," by 
 which the Church, to which the letter was first 
 addi-essed, might be assured that it was not a 
 forgery. Had we space allowed we might go 
 on to a great length, but we must wind up by 
 refeiTing to a few authorities which afford ample 
 proof that the Testament existed as a whole long 
 before the Council of Nice. 
 
 Justin Martyr, A.D . 140, speaks of the memoirs of 
 the Apostles (i. e. the Gospels) being read with 
 the writings of the prophets, every Lord's day. In 
 the epistle of Diognetus (of the same date), we 
 find the following paragrajDh ; — '' The fear of the 
 law is known, and the grace of the j^rophets is 
 acknowledged ; the faith of the gospels is established, 
 and the writings of the Apostles are preserved," &c. 
 Dionysius, of Corinth, A. D. 170, speaks of some 
 who had " attempted to coiTupt the Scriptures of 
 the Lord." Ireneeus, A.D. 1 78, says, " that no 
 common pmiishment awaits those who add or take 
 from the Scriptures." Theophilus, of Antioch, A.D. 
 181, thus expresses himself; — " the writings of the 
 prophets and the gospels are in unison, because 
 that all being hisphed by one and the same Spirit 
 of God." Clement, of Alexandria, A.D. 194, says, 
 " that the Scriptures in which we have trusted, 
 have been confirmed by the Almighty authority."
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 59 
 
 Tertullian, in his Apology, A.D. 200, remarks, 
 " ^Vhoever, therefore, you are, who thmk us to 
 have no concern in the welfare of the Csesars (i. e. 
 the Emperors), look into the word of God, our 
 Scriptures, &c." Origen. A.D. 230, " that the 
 sacred volumes breath the fulness of the Spirit." 
 A\liat, then, are we to think of Gemini and his 
 Council of Nice, which sat in the fourth century ? 
 
 BiL — Oh, he's a creature of necessity. 
 
 Jack — In conclusion, we think that the beginning 
 and end of Gemini's production, constitutes what Cai'- 
 lile would designate an unmoral trinity, — that is, 
 two falsehoods producing a third, the third being 
 all between. Now, Gemmi, 
 
 " Fare thee well, and if for ever, 
 Still for ever, fare thee well," 
 
 But that thy name may be handed down to poste- 
 rity, I propose the following epitaph (for this pur- 
 pose) which a wag wrote on the most distinguished 
 of P}TThonists : — 
 
 " Here lie comprest, in oaken chest, 
 
 Or here at least, did once lie, 
 The blood and veins, and bones, and brains, 
 
 And soul of Gemini."
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 OCCASIONAL PAPERS. 
 
 LETTER TO'T KING. 
 
 At a meetin o't frends a Reform, held uppa ahr 
 hull arston, May 7, it furst year a Reform, 
 it wer reggillarly agreed on, at this letter 
 shud be sent to ahr Royal Reform King : — 
 
 Mester King, Sur — As wear all on us won a 
 yore subjects, we think at hah it's no\\1; but ahr 
 duty to express us joy, an deloit, an admirashon, an 
 approbashon, an sitch loik, uppat glorias victora at 
 yo'n lately getn ore't ennamies a reform. Please 
 yer honour, sur, its not ahr mtenshon to puff 
 ya up we praisin ya ; but we will say this, o avver, 
 yo'nt best pluck a onna chap at's sittn uppa that 
 throne this menny a year. Yoar summut loik a 
 king, yo ai*e. Yo'n dun mooar good sin yo cum 
 nor hofe a gi'ooas a kings afooai' yo ivver did, an
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 61 
 
 yer name al be reich't dahn to mortalatta, if yo 
 nivver dim anuther hopeth a good whoile yo livn ; 
 but we knone varry weal at yoar that sooat an a 
 chap, at yo cahnt hve wethaht dooin good to yer 
 subjects. 
 
 Ifya please yer Madjesty, they yu'st to say 
 abaht ahr tuther king (yer brother yo knone) at 
 hah't Duke wor't chap wot droives the sovrin ; but, 
 sur, we're vany happy to say, an to see, at yo'n 
 geen things sitch a glorias twist, at nah they sen, 
 at hali't Sovrin 's t'chap wot droives't Duke; an we 
 hooap at hah 3^0'! continna to droive booath't Duke 
 an all't burrow mungrin crew till yo'n drivven em 
 all intot Terns. 
 
 Sur, they sen at hah ift reform bill passes into 
 a law at it al shak yer crahn off a yer heead : 
 fudge — do'nt believe em ; it al revvit it ten toiraes 
 faster on nor ivver. Its not a loikla thing, mun : 
 when a king's crahn 's putn on his heead be his 
 ministers an his people, wot tratur dahr tutch it. 
 But yoar not to be diddled we sitch oud woman 
 jargon as that, nother; nou, not sooa, yo'n 
 sho'n em hah its dun ; an when they vaiTa little 
 expected it anole. An sur, its ahr prayer at yo'l 
 gooa the rig till yo'n fettled t'hoil clean aht. 
 An ahr advoice is, at ift next parliament weant 
 refonn, at yo'l hoil em aht ageean, an weel war- 
 rand it, at they'l o'ther reform 01 refrain 't next 
 toime. Sur, when we lookn at benefits at this 
 reform bill al put on us wear rala astonisht at 
 onna bodda shud be so mad as to oppooas it. One 
 gud effect a this bill al be the makkin a 500,000 
 new constuents throot best ant mooast trust worthy
 
 62 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 
 men it land, an almak mooar strength for protectin 
 proparta, t'laws, ant loyalty at kingdom. Please 
 yer homier, Sur, is this owt loik a revvolushon at 
 silla Wetheril an Peel toke't abaht. Bur, it alsoon 
 be all up we em, an its are desoir at yo'l mak it 
 intoo a law, at onna burrowmonger at's catch 't 
 cuttin his throit, ban gin, or dralmdin his sen, or 
 takkin onna sooat a poizon we a intenshon to kill 
 his sen, shall be berrid at fore lane ends, an a stake 
 drivven throo him ; for yo kno'n, Sur, at when t bill 
 passes, theal be a wooal gang on em al ha to gooa 
 hooam, an its thowt be sum at they'l neer be able to 
 sm'voive it, ; an, Sur, we think at hah it al be't best 
 way for yo to let em gooa hooam it neet as nobboda 
 ma see em, an at yo'l be so koind as to provide 
 mooaiTiin cooaches for em to gooa in, an at there 
 may be a dumb peal rung at ivvera tahn they 
 gooan throo, an't cooaches stop whoil they sing't 
 foUerin hymn, tain throot Sun newspaper : 
 
 Curses booath doir an deep, 
 Let us we feiTor heap 
 
 On Liberty. 
 
 Ahr burrowmungering score, 
 Alas, will nivver more 
 Triumph the people o'er : 
 
 England is free ! 
 
 Satan, to thee we pray, 
 Hurl patriot kings away, 
 
 Let 'em not stand : 
 
 An sin' we seek in vain 
 Are burrows to retain, 
 Let revolution reign 
 
 O'er all't land !
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 63 
 
 vSui', we St send fore rattliii cliaps aht a Yorksher 
 at al do ya sum good, — all refonners ; an we believe 
 at hah yo'l have a grate majorrata e favor at bill, 
 it next meetin ; yo'l have sifch a glorias set a 
 refonners as nivver sho'd ther faces e that hahce 
 afooar; an't reflection a sitch a victora as yo'n 
 get'n al be a ivveriastin consolation to yer sen, an 
 it al shed sitch a luster uppa yer name, as time 
 itsen, we all its changes an revolutions, al nivver, 
 nivver tarnish. Bless yer sowl, mun, yo'n wun all 
 us hearts at won single strooak, an we're redda to 
 follow ya, o'ther throo muck or blood, ast case mut 
 requoire. Nah, pleeas yer Madjesta, afooar o be 
 quoit wroitin this letter, we'n to beg won thing on 
 ya, an that is, at if ivver yo cum to Shevvild, at 
 yo'l cum uppa ahr hull ai'ston, an bring all yer oud 
 razors we ya, an we'l mak em shave loik winkin. 
 Sooa no mooar nah throo yore mooast royal and 
 dutiful subjects, 
 
 WHEELSWARFS. 
 
 Ahr Hull Arston, Shevvild. 
 
 CONVERSATION 
 
 BETWEEN A FREETHIXKEB AND JACK WHEELSWARF. 
 
 Freethinker — Well, Jack, you are throng 
 grinding elsins, I see. 
 
 Jack — Yis, Sur, here's nowt getn withaht 
 workin. 
 
 Free — What name do you strike ? is it Greaves 
 which is marked upon the tang ?
 
 64 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Yis, Sur. 
 
 Free — Is it the same Greaves which is so much 
 rioted for making good nails. 
 
 Jack — T' same chap exactla, Sur; they sartanla 
 dun mak best nails a onnabodda ; they'r not cut be 
 steam, yo kno'n ; they dooant mak em threesquare 
 an withaht points. Cobblers has na kashon to bore 
 hoils to nock ther nails it shoes ; they'n nobbut to 
 stick em intot soils, an away they gooan, an they 
 lookn weel when they getn in, that's best on't. 
 
 Free — Well, Jack, I believe you are correct, 
 and I believe they make the best clog nails of any 
 house in the country, and as for their sprigs they 
 are not to be equalled. 
 
 Jack — Yore reit, sur, wotyo sen's truth itsen. 
 
 Free — Yes, it may be, but there are many 
 opinions about what truth is; some believe that the 
 Bible is truth, perhaps you are one of that class. 
 
 Jack — Sloik e am, o see no reason whoy o 
 shud'nt,' can yo tell me onna ? 
 
 Free — Yes, Jack, the end for which it was 
 written, and the persons who wrote it, are reasons 
 sufficient for you rejecting it. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, wot wor they written for, an 
 whooa wor they wot writ em ? 
 
 Free. — They were written by a pack of priests, 
 to gull the people. 
 
 Jack — Then yo do'nt believe at hah Matthew, 
 Mark, an't rest on em writ gospels, dun ya ? 
 
 Free. — Certainly not, it's all a hoax. 
 
 Jack — Yore shure they did'nt, are ya ? 
 
 Free. — Yes, quite confident; I don't believe 
 that ever s^ach persons existed.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 65 
 
 Jack — "Wa, o kno yore mooar larii'd nor me, 
 biu' if yo sen ihem chaps did'nt wroit em, yo owt 
 to tell us whooa did. 
 
 Free. — I have told you. 
 
 Jack — Abbut wot did they call em, an wot cen- 
 tury did they live in ? becos if yo cahnt tell that, o'st 
 begin to think at hah yo kno'n vaiTa little abaht it. 
 
 Free. — You ai-e very ignorant. Jack; if you 
 had read as much as I have, you would not suffer 
 yourself to be gulled by the priests. 
 
 Jack — O'st be a good deeal woiser if yo'l tell 
 me wot they call'd chaps wot ^\Tit Boible, an when 
 they lived. 
 
 Free. — Do'nt you see that the piiests in all 
 ages have used it to keep the people in subjection ? 
 
 Jack — Aye, aye, sur, but wot did they call em, 
 an when did they live ! — Don't shuffle, sur. 
 
 Free. — I don't consider myself under any ob- 
 hgation to answer every silly question you may 
 propose. 
 
 Jack — Then yo don't kno wot they call'd em, 
 nor when they lived, dun ya ? Nah, o'l ax yo a 
 question ; — if yo cahnt tell me whooa ^Tote books 
 at Scriptures, hah can ya prove at chaps did'nt 
 wroit em whooas names they bear ? 
 
 Free. — (In a passion) I shall not answer any 
 such questions. 
 
 Jack — Becos yo cahnt ; summada's gull'd yo, o 
 think ; wot part a yore bodda does yer soul hg in ? 
 
 Free. — Soul ! I believe m no such ti'ash ; the 
 modification of subtle matter is quite sufficient to 
 produce tliinking ; but you know very little about 
 such subjects, I am certain. 
 r
 
 66 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Aye, aye, is ther matter thin enuff to 
 think, eh ? Did ya iwer see a square idea, or a 
 oval thowt, siir ? Becos, yo kno'n, all matter mun 
 have sum shape to exist in, an if thinkin be ma- 
 terial, why not have long thowts, an hard ans, an 
 sum toimes varra soft ans, as yo seem to have just 
 nah ? 
 
 Free. — Don't you know. Jack, that every thing 
 which has motion, supposes extent and solidity ? 
 For instance, fear is an emotion, and produces the 
 movement of trembling in the members ? 
 
 Jack — O dear aye, an joy al produce t' move- 
 ment a jumpin, an hiv al produce onna thing, an 
 maHce is a mooashon at ad sooin pull all yer hair 
 off, whoil jealousy ad scrat yer een aht; nah these 
 is all on em material mooashons, an sum on em not 
 van-a noist ans no'ther ; but then if luv be matter, 
 it ad seem odd to say a piece a luv, or a lump a 
 joy, a yard a malice, or a peck a jellousy. Wotn 
 ya say, sur ? 
 
 Free. — Why, Jack, these subjects are above 
 your comprehension. 
 
 Jack — Near moind ; nah yo sen at ivvera thing 
 wot's mooashon suppooases extent an soliddity, 
 dooant ya ? 
 
 Free. — Certainly I do. 
 
 Jack — Is ther onna mooashon e fear ? 
 
 Free. — I have before shewn you that it produces 
 trembhng. 
 
 Jack — Then fear is solid and extended as long 
 as a May powl, happen, an as hard as a brick, eh ? 
 Cum, cum, this is not being guU'd, o avver ; ac- 
 cooardin to this doctrine, we'st have hard fears, an
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 67 
 
 soft fears, long fears, an short fears, hot fears, an 
 cowd fears, swift fears, an slow fears, black fears, an 
 whoit fears, thick fears, an thin fears ; — is'nt this 
 being guU'd, sur ? the philosophy of Helvetus, eh ? 
 
 Free. — You talk nonsense ? is not sound ma- 
 terial ? and you would not say that it was heavy, 
 or that it was measurable ? 
 
 Jack — O'd say at sahnd wornt matter, an o'l 
 mak yo say sooa befooar oVe dun we ya, if yo'I 
 stick to yer principles ; — yo believe at matter has 
 an independent existence, dooant ya ? 
 
 Free. — Most certainly I do. 
 
 Jack — Did yo ivver kno sahnd produced with- 
 aht impression, or withalit air ? if not, o shud loik yo 
 to tell me hah sahnd can be material, sin its de- 
 pendent for its vaiTa existence uppa impression an 
 air ? 
 
 Free — Well, well. Jack, perhaps you may be 
 right, but its a subject which I have not studied 
 much. 
 
 Jack — Did ya ivver studda owt, sur ^ 
 
 Free. — Yes, Jack, I have studied much, and 
 have forgotten more than ever you knew. 
 
 Jack — An if o may judge at quallata a wot yon 
 forgetn, be wot yo kno'ne nah, yo'ne sartanly* 
 forgetn a gud deal at nivver wor worth kno 'in ; 
 but it puts me abaht to kno hah yo can o'ther forget 
 or remember owt. 
 
 Free — You are no philosopher, or you would 
 have known that all our ideas are impressed on the 
 brain, ard that all the particles which compose the 
 human frame, undergo a change every seven years. 
 
 Jack — That's rather odd, becos if ideas isim-
 
 68 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 presst uppat brain, an ift brain changes ivvera 
 seven years, bah is it at o can remember owt at wor 
 impresst twenta year sin; becos o've had new 
 brains tvvoice sin then ; wethaht toud brains tells 't 
 new ans what they kno'ne just as they cum. Is this 
 memra, Sur, or is it being gull'd ? 
 
 Free. — You are quite me!aphysical^ Jack. You 
 are a curious fellow, — where did you study ? 
 
 Jack — Uppa alir hull arston, sur, an o think 
 rayther to better pm*pose nor yo han. Bm* o'l ax 
 ya aimther queshton, an then o'l be off tot ware-has. 
 Suppooas o ge up mo relidgen an taks to yores, 
 shud o mak a better member a sociata, or a better 
 father, or a better husband, or a better sarvant ? 
 shud o be honnister, soberer, moraler? shud o stick 
 to me word better ? shud o be happier e me fam- 
 mala, or e me awn moind ? will yore principles 
 cumfort me when o'm badla, an mak me bare 
 afflictions we patience, an help me to meet death we 
 cun'idge an quoitness, an ge me a bloomin hope a 
 futur immortallata ? — becos mo relidgen al do this 
 for ma, an if yores al not do so much, o'd better 
 keep this oVe getn, an be gull'd, nor tak yores ; 
 had'nt e, sur ? 
 
 Free. — 1 shall soon begin to think that I have 
 suffered myself to be gull'd ; for I am certain my 
 principles \nll do nothing of the kind for me ; but 
 I will think of these things, and will see you again. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — O say, oud lad, o think thali's 
 ommast nngull'd him ; o shud'nt wonder if he is'nt 
 at chappel a Sunday. 
 
 Jack — O vrish he may, we all me heait. T' chap
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 69 
 
 seems to proide his sen in h is laniin, an rala 
 c-abnt see wot he's lanit, nobbut to shutfle when 
 he's axt a queshton. But o mun be off; thro me 
 band off. Bill, witta ? 
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 
 
 Question — How do you prove the existence 
 of an intelligent God ? 
 
 Answer — Design proves it. 
 
 Q.— How ? 
 
 A. — Can any one examine a steam engine, for 
 instance, and at the same time believe that it Jiever 
 was made ? Impossible ! And if we examine the 
 contrivance and skill manifested in the works of 
 God, every unbiased mind will be constrained to 
 acknowledge them to be the contrivance of an 
 intelligent God. 
 
 Q. — ^\^lat ai'e we to understand by the word 
 nature ? 
 
 A. — If the v,ord nature be used for the intrinsic 
 manner of existing, it means that constitution, 
 make, or disposition, in which any thing is 
 produced. 
 
 Q. — ^What are we to understand by mind or 
 spirit ? 
 
 A. — ^Yllat the essence of spirit is, may i^ot be 
 known : but its existence is (like matter) known by 
 its properties. 
 
 Q. — What are the essential projDerties of spirit ? 
 
 A. — Consciousness and volition, the existence of
 
 1 
 
 70 THE SHKFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 whicli is as certain as that of matter. 
 
 Q. — Can organization produce thinking ? 
 
 A. — Mere organization cannot be the cause of 
 thinking or intelUgence ; because it is plain, that 
 precisely the same state of the organs shall often be 
 found before and after death, and yet, without any 
 violence having been done to them. In one 
 moment man shall be actually intelligent, and in the 
 next incapable of thought. Besides, organization 
 is only the aiTangement of parts, which possess no 
 such power; and, when they are perfectly organized 
 can produce nothing until the machine is acted 
 upon, — and then, nothing contrary to its nature. 
 
 Q. — From whence is human intelligence ? 
 
 A. — Not from matter, either organized or un- 
 organized. We have seen that it cannot be from 
 organized matter ; and if from unorganized, then 
 must all matter think. Intelligence, therefore, 
 must come from an intelligent being, — and that 
 being is God ? 
 
 Q. — Is the soul of man immortal ? 
 
 A. — The soul of man being immaterial, is, 
 therefore, incapable of being dissolved : and, we 
 would say, let those who assert that the soul will be 
 annihilated at death, prove it, for it does not occur 
 to us, how death, which is only a privation, can 
 annihilate that which has a positive existence. 
 
 Q. — Is an infinite series of men possible ? 
 
 A. — The notion of an infinite series of caused 
 and successive beings, is absurd ; for of this infinite 
 series, either some one part has not been successive 
 to any other, or else, all the several parts of it have 
 been successive. If some one part of it was not
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 71 
 
 successive, then it had a first part, which destroys 
 the supposition of its infinity. If all the several 
 parts of it have been successive, then they have all 
 at once been future; but if they have all been 
 future, a time may be conceived when none of them 
 had existence ; and if so, then, it follows, either 
 that all the parts; and consequently the whole, of 
 this infinite series must have aiisen from nothing — 
 which is absurd, or else there must be something 
 in the whole, besides what is contained in all its parts. 
 
 Q.— What is life ? 
 
 A. — The presence of an immaterial soul with the 
 body, is the source of animal life ; and the separation 
 of the soul from the body, is that circumstance 
 which causes death. Mr. LawTence, indeed, makes 
 life to consist in the sum total of all the fimctions : 
 thus he makes life a cause which owes its existence 
 to its own operations; and, consequently, a cause 
 which, had it not operated to produce itself, had 
 never existed at all. 
 
 Q.— What is man ? 
 
 A. — ]Man is a compound being, made up of 
 matter and spirit. 
 
 Q. — What is meant by a moral agent ? 
 
 A. — He is a moral agent, who is capable of per- 
 forming moral actions ; and an action is rendered 
 moral by two circumstances, — 1st. That it is 
 voluntar}' ; 2d. That it has respect to some rule 
 which determines it to be good or evil. Moral 
 good and evil, says Locke, is the conformity or 
 disagreement of one voluntaiy action to some law, 
 whereby good or evil is drawn upon us from the 
 will or power of the law maker.
 
 72 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Q. — AVliat, then, is that law by which our moral 
 actions must be tried ? 
 
 A. — Such law, which, whatever it may be, must 
 be given and enforced by God himself, and have 
 respect to him, — because tliere are many moral 
 actions that cannot come within the cognizance of 
 any human law. 
 
 Q. — Do the Christian Scrij^tures contain the 
 rule of moral action ? 
 
 A. — Most certainly they do, and the purity of 
 their morality is a proof of their Divinity. 
 
 Q. — But it has been said that no testimony can 
 prove any deviation fi'om the known sequences of 
 cause and effect, and that an event is impossible 
 which contradicts our experience. 
 
 A. — Indeed ! — That is not only denying that 
 testimony can prove a miracle, but it is denying 
 the possibility of a miracle at all. So that whatever 
 a man may have sensible evidence of, if it be con- 
 trary to his experience, he must not believe it. 
 Now, what would have been thought of the persons 
 who sav/ our Saviour raise the dead, if they had 
 said. We most certainly saw the body raised, we 
 saw him walk, we heard him converse, we felt and 
 handled him, and we know that he lived and acted 
 same as before his death ; but then, we are also 
 convinced that such an event is contrary to our 
 experience, and, therefore, we cannot believe it ? — 
 Why, we should write, madmen. I would ask. 
 Can the Almighty cause an event to take place, 
 which should be a deviation from the laws of nature ? 
 They who believe in the existence of a God cannot 
 deny it. Then it may be safely afErmed that an
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 73 
 
 event is possible which might contfadict our ex- 
 perience. 
 
 A LETTER TO ALL THE WESLEYAN 
 METHODIST PREACHERS. 
 
 And in his brain, 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms. As you like it, Act II. 
 
 SuRS — O reckon yo'l all on ya see Dicky 
 Hotly 's satire : o mean when yo'n seen this letter, 
 yo nivver will see it ; an that's just wot o'm ^Toitin 
 to ya for, O reckon yo dooant kno him, but o doo, 
 an o'l tell ya wot he is nali, an wot he has been. 
 He has been a ^Methodist, an a usefid Sunday 
 School taicher; but o'm sony to say-^ nah he's 
 a confirmed atheist ; aii yo'll happen excuse us 
 when we tell ya at we'n pledged us sens to look 
 after this set; we knone all't gang on em, an we'n 
 gi'ooapt all their sculls, from the infidel conductors 
 of the Fargate Bull-dog,^ to the execrable authors 
 of " What is love," " The system of Nature," and 
 *' The Ruins of Empires," an to a man theyn all 
 a soft place in em. Nah, yo'l understand, at this 
 * Fisraro in Sheffield.
 
 74 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Dicky Hotly % a varra lamed chap ; they sen at 
 hah he can toke latten, an adder say he can ; an 
 he can toke abaht toud Egyptian Hermes, an loiks 
 his cosmogony better nor that a Moses, although 
 there wor sum animals made then wot had na sense 
 (an o think there's some on em left yet) ; an he 
 can mak sum fooaks stare as if they wor stuck, we 
 tokin abaht Zoroaster's iVIagic Oracles, an as it 
 happens he nother kno's when he lived nor when 
 he deed. An he can toke abaht Manetho, Berosus, 
 Sanchoniatho, Diodorus Siculus, Aristotle, Plato, 
 an that set, — m a word, uppa religious subjects, he 
 can toke owt but common sense. But still he's a 
 varra sharp chap, o'l ashooar yo, for he's fun it aht 
 at religion's all a farce, an at God nivver did give a 
 revelation to man ; if he had, he says at hah he 
 would a made it universal (hah did he get to kno, 
 o wunder) ; an he says at nooa revelation can prove 
 it sen — wot'st yuse a makkin it universal then ; wot 
 a flat ! Sooa then, if God gives a revelation to 
 man, they'l beloik to ax Dicky Hotly whether it 
 be true or not. 
 
 Well then, yo'l tak nooatis, he's one a them sharp 
 chaps wot weant believe at they've a soul. He 
 once axt me to sho him one, an sooa if onna on 
 ya's browt one we ya, yo'l happen let him have a 
 look, an then he'll see wot sooat on a thing it is. 
 Be wot heeard him say one neet, o rather think 
 he believes at souls is made a phosphorus, an 
 accoardin to a discovery made lately be a French 
 brain scratter it taks abaht two grains an a hofe to 
 mak a soul on a common sooat, bur o believe 
 Dicky's ad weigh hofe a pahnd its sich a wojDper.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT* 76 
 
 \Va theD, aht at fullness of his brains he's 
 devoUopt anuther myslera, an he tells fooaks 
 at sun shoines be an eternal law ! Wotn 
 yo think abaht that gentlemen; did ^a ivver 
 hear tell of an etemal law befooar ? Nah, yo 
 knone, for a thing to be etemal, it cahnt be sed at 
 ivver it wor made ; but ahr Dicky, poor fellow, has 
 made that to be eternal wot must, of necessity, 
 be dependent uppa summat else for its varra 
 existence. Yo knone weel enuff at the words 
 " etenial law" is as flat a contradiction as ivver wor 
 spluttered. 
 
 Wa then, Dicky's fun it aht at there's nooa sich 
 things as spirits e existence ; nowt at sooat ; its all 
 a hoax ; spirit means air, and sich loik : an o wonce 
 heeard him ax a chap for a definition of spirit, an't 
 chap teld him just as much abaht spirit as he kno'd 
 abaht matter ; an then he shuffled. Dicky says at 
 hah he dus'nt kno wot tessence a matter is ! Whoy 
 that's queer, is'nt it ? for if he dus'nt know ivvera 
 thing, hah can he tell at there is'nt beings e existence 
 distinct throo matter ? an if he does kno all things, 
 yo'd loik to see him adder say. Here is summat e 
 existence, wot he calls Deity ; but wot it is o dooant 
 kno, an o'm shooar yo ca'nt tell, for o heeard him 
 say won neet, at it w^omt matter, an spirits there is 
 non,''he says ; whoy then it must be nowt, becos he 
 says whativver is immaterial is nothing. He's a 
 noist lad to burlesque onnabodda is'nt he, think ya ? 
 an we can ashoor ya at allt rest on em's as soft as he 
 is, for they can non on em advance hofe a dozen 
 steps in a metaphysical argument fit for a dog to 
 grin at. Tubbe shooar, they can black, abuse, an
 
 76 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 bully 't ministers o relidgon, but neear heed em ; 
 yone a better job agate. Remember wot oiid 
 Shakspeare says — 
 
 Men that make 
 Euvy and crooked malice nourishment, 
 Dare bite the best. 
 
 Leave em to us, aii when ivver they cum in as 
 way, we'll rattle are intellectual musher abate ther 
 phosporus nappers, till they cry, hold, hold, enuff. 
 Nah o could tell ya a gud deal mooar abaht this 
 Dicky Hotly, but o shud think yo'n seen enuff 
 to convince yo at its not yore duta to nooatice o'ther 
 him or his satire. An sooa o'm yores respectively, 
 
 A SHEVVILD CHAP. 
 
 N.B. — O'd rather be a kittlin an cry mew nor 
 won a these same metre satire-mongers.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE 
 SHEFFIELD NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 A GRIXDEKS OPIXIOX OF A CERTAIN GEXTLE.M.Oi' 3 SPEECH 
 DELIVERED IN PARADISE-SQUARE, IN FEBRUARY, 1829. 
 
 Tot Editer at She wild Kurrent. 
 
 Mester Editer, — Sur, we'n been at booatli t' 
 meetins, an we'n heeard booath soids, an nan we're 
 bahn to ge abr opinyon ababt summat at we heeard. 
 We'st confoine abr remarks to George Cubitt's an 
 
 L P 's speeches. Yo kno'n, mester editer, 
 
 at hah't last gentleman sed be wud answer all at 
 George Cubitt sed at t' Wednesday meetin ; an 
 sooa v.e stopt till Friday to hear him ; an nah we 
 ban beeai-d him, an we do'nt think at he's hofe 
 anser'd him. Non, not sooa; he'll tbind him his 
 wark, vo mav \\Toit on't.
 
 78 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 It furst place, L ne'er contradicted him 
 
 abaht that nasta dirta bill at they stickt up ageean't 
 walls. He kno'd it wer a underleggin touch weel 
 enuff : an then he forget term. Catholic emancipa- 
 shon. He may doo pratta weel to bawl tot Oirish- 
 men, or javver abaht chetch-rates ; bur he'll ne'er 
 doo for sich forheeads as ahrs. We'n getn torgans 
 a disamment, an we can tell him at t' exclusion at 
 Catholics wer a part at bill a roights. Nah, does 
 he think at hah we're booath blind an soft ? We'n 
 seen t' Acts, an if we are groinders, we'ut organ a 
 judgment just aboon us een. Bur here's anuther 
 thing : he ne'er refuted Cubitt abaht Cirkillation a 
 traks e Spain, Italy, &c. ; he ne'er tutch't him 
 uppa this bit. It'st blessed liberty a Catholic 
 toimes e 1829 ! Aye, aye ; if o may rub me hand 
 o'er L, P.'s cranium, o'st fomd he had'nt t'organ 
 a remembrance. An then, yo kno'n at Cubitt sed 
 at hah't constitution wer dove-tail'd, an at hah they 
 cud'nt tay one part off withaht hurtin all on't. As 
 
 for what P sed abalit this, it wer all me hoi an 
 
 Betty Martin ; it nobbut amahnted to this much, 
 at there wer anuther dove-tail put in. What he 
 sed abaht this originated in his ha win t'organ a 
 quibblin ; but we're not to be diddled be quibbhn 
 lawyers. 
 
 An nah for his repHes to Cubitt 's Magna Chai'ta: 
 an here o've anuther desire to grooap his skull for't 
 organ of evashon. Cubitt referred us tot buniin 
 of William Sawtree, withaht a trial be jmy. He 
 ne'er sed at hah it wer no use to us ; nou, not sooa. 
 O'm astonisht. If it had been tuther Luke, o 
 shud'nt a been so struckn as e am. An then
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 79 
 
 ageean, yo kno'n, Cubitt sed at hah there wer't 
 
 elements of a constitution e 1 688 ; an then L 
 
 sed at he sed we derived all us liberties throo us 
 heathen ancestors. Nah yo ma see at a strooak 
 he's getten't organ a quibblin, an yo ma wroit on't, 
 he's so yused to it at he cahnt help it; but o avver, 
 he made t' Irishmen shaht rarely : an o'ther after 
 this, or else befooar, he sed at hah all seeks perse- 
 cuted e ther turas. Prethe, L , dun they doo 
 
 sooa nah ? Nou, not sooa. But Catholics does, 
 booath e France, Italy, an Spain anole. O once 
 heard iNIr. Stafford, language lamer, say, at hah 
 tliey wud'nt let him taich a schooile Italy, becos he 
 womt a Catholic ; an it's not long sin ivver so 
 menny men wer imprison 'd e France, for wantin a 
 Protestant parson. An if ta wants owt aht a Spain, 
 thah ma gooa tot inquisishon, at's under spenitle 
 guvvemment at pope, an thah'l foind at between 't 
 years 1481 an 1808, not less nor three hunderd an 
 forta noine thahsand noine hundred an twenta one, 
 wer burnt aloive, condemned tot galleys, &c. ; an 
 mooar nor foive millions of inhabitants has dis- 
 appeared e Spain, sin't holy office exercised its 
 horrable ministiy. Wot dusta think abaht this, eh ? 
 This is't liberty a modem Popery e Catholic coun- 
 tries. But thah's not getn't organ a disamment for 
 these things, oud chap. 
 
 An then Cubitt sed at hah Ireland wanted lamin ; 
 
 an then yo kno'n, P sed they cud'nt have it, 
 
 becos Cathohcs cud'nt endow schools. O, L , 
 
 thah's a bad memory. Thah kno's wel enuiFat 
 t'Catholic priests e Ireland dus'nt loike t'poor fooaks 
 to lam. Its not aboon two year sin a mob, heeaded
 
 80 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 be a priest, set foiar to a Protestant school, aii't 
 mester, }30oar fella, wor fooarsed to run to save liis 
 napper. An here's sum mooar thmgs at we'n fun 
 
 L P aht in ; bur we'n dun him enuff 
 
 this toime. Bur o avver, there's anuther matter at 
 we fun aht at Catholic chapel a Sunda, at stonishes 
 us mooar norowt else, an that is, at hah't Catholics is 
 
 bahn to mak L a present, an its to be raised 
 
 be subscriptioii, for his vaiTa able speech e their 
 favour. Nail o wonder what they'll ge him. 
 Lawyers v.eant quibble for nowt, eh ? Ge him 
 summat loikla, an he'll prate long enuff. O think 
 e me heart, t'Lukes is all aloike ; for tuther Luke 
 weant gooa a arrand withaht sum puddin. But 
 
 we'd forgetn anuther thing. L toked abaht 
 
 doin to others as he'd loik em to do to him. An 
 nah we beg, at if ivver thah maks anuther ration to 
 us, prethe do'nt pull sitch long fiddle faces at us, 
 for we wod'nt do sooa to thee. 
 
 Nah, M ester KuiTent, these is ahr opinyons, at 
 we'n thowt uppa ahr hull arston, an we hooap at 
 hah yo'l may em public; for yo kno'n at us groin- 
 ders is all on us his madjesta's loyal subjects, an wot 
 ivver we ta e hand we awlis gooan throo we't, becos 
 we'nt organs a detennination an perseverance. 
 
 An sooa we're yore's respectably, 
 
 , JACK WHEELSWARF, 
 
 Seckretary.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 81 
 
 CHRISTMAS SINGING. 
 
 Tot Editer at Shevvild Irish. 
 
 Mester Irish — OVe heeard a gi'eat noise 
 this year abaht wliear't best singin ad be ; sum sed 
 at iiab it ad be at Ebenezer, becos they'nt barrick 
 band ; an sum sed at hah it ad be at Proddistant 
 Mettodisses ; but v>on chap sed it ad be e Scoteldon 
 street, an anuther sed at hah it ad be at Norfolk 
 street. O avver, o thowt it wod'nt look weel to 
 see't barrick sovvgers we ther red breeches on it 
 chappel. O thowt, thinks oi, o can see them onna 
 toime it Hoide Park, when there's fire works, or 
 a balloon gooin oif, an sooa yo seen, o wod'nt gooa 
 there. An then, o thowt, w^a o'l not gooa tot 
 Proddistants, an't orkester at Norfolk- street is at 
 trang end at place, sooa o wod'nt gooa there. O 
 avver, at last o concluded to gooa tot Sahth-street 
 dahn't Moor, an heear what sooart an a squad they 
 wor. Sooa o gooad at hofe-past ten it mornin, 
 bovv't a book at chap at dooar, an intot gallara o 
 ran, clapt mesen dahn fair facin em, an o sartanla 
 thowt at hah it wert noistest seet at ivver o seed e 
 all me loife, they all sempt to be dranged sooa 
 pratta. A noister set a lasses an good lookin chaps 
 ne'er sang at Chrissmas ; o wor reight dahn pleased 
 we em alooar ivver they sang a ninch. Bur o 
 avver, as soon ast furst strooak wor struckn, it made 
 mo hair stanstreito me heead for joy. O thowt, 
 thinks o, t'barrick sowgers ma bio ther een aht 
 afooar they can ma sitch music as this ; an as fort 
 Proddistant chaps they bet em castles. But at
 
 82 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 six at neet, o sartanla thowt won at fiddles sed 
 allaluyah. O avver there wer won member wit 
 trumpet made me feel varra queer ; o dooant think 
 at hah Clegg cud a dun it better. An then, sur, 
 there wer two chaps, wit twizzled trumpets, an't 
 chaps wit things at they pull backard an foiTad, 
 an't chaps wit flutes, an't chaps wit bum bases, wer 
 all proime workmen. But thear wer won chap at 
 top a all, at play'd a crater loik a comer cubberd. 
 O thowt at hah it wert grate gronfather a all't bum 
 bases Moi hoi, he made it thunder aht just loike 
 mahnt Etna, when it's balm lo brust. Bur o avver, 
 sur, if o ma tell ya all at wonce, o thowt it wer loike 
 be'in it York minster ; for't lasses sang loike neetin- 
 gales, an't rest on em switcht away loike winkin. 
 O ne'er seed nowt loike it e Shevvild afooar. It 
 made sitch a depreshon uppa mo feelins, at whent' 
 collectin box cum, o geed t' chap sixpence all at 
 wonce, an it wer worth it anole. An nah, sur, o'st 
 conclude, we ge'in it as mo opinyon at hah't 
 Sahth-street chaps is't top sawyers this Chrissmas, 
 an sooa o'm yore respectable groiuder, 
 
 A SHEVVILD CHAP. 
 December 26, 1829. 
 
 PRIZE FIGHTING. 
 
 To't Editor at Shevvild Markara. 
 
 Sur, — seed e yore paper tlast week a letter 
 soigned Pollux, an we yore permission o'l mak sum 
 remarks on't. We ban e this letter sum reasons
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. S3 
 
 fort increase a depravvata e this large an poppillous 
 tahn, an these reasons is said tubbe War an 
 Ingenuity. Nab, Sur, o'm at a loss to kno wot 
 Pollux means, when he says at hah't chaps wots 
 aht a wark is fooarced to ha recourse to ther awn 
 ingenuity to save ther sens thro want an poverta, 
 an gooin throo voice to -v'oice, they wallow it very 
 moire a depravata, wethaht he means theyii 
 plenta a toime to larn to box, an sooa we gooin 
 throo brothel to brothel to mak feightin matches, 
 they wallow it moir a depravvata : if this is wot he 
 means o understand : |,but alas ! feightin 's his 
 favom-it system, its manly an noble, its poor 
 man's amusement, an its suppooarted bit press an 
 sum at gentlemen it cuntra, an its sum props it 
 nobillata ; an last a all, its be this vaiTa rational 
 system at t'lnglishman sallies his disputes we : o 
 rai'e boxer, thahs sum proime recommendations to 
 mak us admoire the ; but o think Mcster Pollux 
 thah's rather libelled chaiTacter a Inglishmen ; o'm 
 a Inglishman, but o'st be asham'd o me ears to re- 
 duce mesen tot state a brutal] ata at thah recomends. 
 If that sistem wer general weest have ivvei'a petty 
 foggin fop darknin us eyes if we shud happen to 
 contradict him ; an if wot o'm sayin shud mak the 
 mad, o may expect sum o thah poor man's amuse- 
 ment abaht mo ears, as't mooast rational way a 
 sattlin this dispute. O cahnt pretend to tell wot 
 sooart o ideas thah has abaht morals a Shevvild, but 
 if thahl gooa it woods on a Sunday, thah ma see 
 plenta a the awn crew practisin't noble art a boxin, 
 an then tell us wot maks a part a Shevvild's de- 
 pravata. Here we'n booath't laws o God an man
 
 84 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 brokken, au tliah may gooa tliroot streets an thah 
 may hear young ans niakkiu feiglits we all't 
 attendant curses uppa your eyes an limbs, an tben 
 tell us whether feightin dus'nt mak a part o 
 Shevvild's depravrata. Gooa tot ring, where thah 
 ma see two bravsTiy fellows we a savvage fierceness 
 not to be met w^e it brute creation, manglin an 
 braikin one anuthers lims, an then tell us whether 
 feightin maks a pait a Ingiand's depravvatta. 
 Gooa tot ring where murderous pugihsm's made a 
 system a gamblin, an wheai-'t feelings of a motley 
 mob's nobbut hai'dened we seein slawler an death ; 
 an put to these miseries brokken constitutions, 
 starved-to-deeath families, burden 'd parishes, an 
 childer ruin'd be bad example, an then tell us 
 whether boxinmaks a part a Ingiand's depravvata. 
 An still Mester Pollux has't impidence to recom- 
 mend this worse nor beastly system tot public — a 
 outrage agean humanata, an a insult to common 
 sense. But he says its suppooarted be gentlemen, 
 an sum at nobillitta. Aye, aye, an o'd say prostitutes 
 thieves, gamblers, swindlers, vagabonds, an all't 
 scum a Ingland ; a gi'oup quite worthy a sicli a 
 sistem. — Yours, &c. 
 
 J. WHEELSWARF.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE 
 
 TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 
 
 ScEXE — Six or seven icorkmen sat round thejire 
 reading Mr. Buckingham s Bill.* 
 
 J 00 a'' Guzzle — Well, it's softest bill at e'er o 
 seed e all me loif. 
 
 BiLLA Slape — O, lie's mad, mmi. 
 
 Jack Swallow — O did'iit think he'd been sitch 
 a fooil. 
 
 Jack Wheelswaiif (Entering) — Hollo, hollo, 
 wot nah ? wot's all this noise abaht ? 
 
 Tom Swipes — Hey, oud lad, bear's the foine 
 Silk Buckingham's insane bill here ; he ovvt to be 
 sent to Bedlam for a year or two, to talk tot chaps 
 wot's crazy, v A varra noist man ! he wants to bring 
 t' spy system'up. We'st not be allah'd to fget a 
 point a ale, withaht havvin a policeman at iis heels, 
 
 * A Bill brought into Parliament by Mr. Buckingham, for 
 the suppression of drunkenness.
 
 86 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 an takkin us up whether we're drank or nooa, just 
 when they'n a nioind ; but if ivver he cums here 
 agean, w^e'll stooan him. 
 
 JooA — O cud'nt a thowt at he'd ivver a made 
 sich a ass on his sen ; ivvera bodda's laffin at his 
 crazy bill, an all t' members it Hahce a Commons 
 al laiT at it when they seen it. Besoide, wot bis- 
 ness has he to meddle we us ? Cahnt we get drunk 
 when we'n a mohid for him ? we do'nt alis him to 
 pay for it ; he'd better moind his own wark an let 
 us alooan ; he mo'nt gooa for Shevviid na mcoar. 
 
 Harry Sap — Look v>ot hundreds a pahnds t' Ian- 
 lords al loise ; sitch as Bil Grey, and Tom Wila, 
 an that set, wot's made sitch alterations an accom- 
 modations for ther customers ! It'st mooast unjust 
 bill at ivver uer made. 
 
 Jack Swallow — He ca'nt hinder us for gettin 
 drunk after all he's dun ; becos when we'n had a 
 quart at one place, we can gooa to anuther. But 
 wot's to becum on us families when we gooan tot 
 hoil ? This al be noist fort parish ; for o'm quoit 
 shure t' rooad to Wakefield al nivver be cleor ; t' 
 ratepayers al sooin curse Buckingham's Bill. 
 
 Tom — O'l have ale if tlieas onna to be getn it 
 spoit o Jemmy Buckingham or his bill ot'her. Its 
 })roime this; w^e're not to have a point at after 
 we'n dun at neet. O wish o had him here ; 
 o'd drahnd him we wheelswaif. And we're to have 
 none at all a Sundays. Its unbarable this ! He's 
 dun it to pleas 't parsons. O'l neer run abaht to 
 get liim vooats na mooar. 
 
 Billa — Yo do'nt need to bother yer sens, that 
 soft Bill al ne'er pass. Country's not prepared for
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 87 
 
 it. But its loike all't rest on his hare brained 
 tricks. He cahnt be reit in his heead, o'm shure; 
 for he's setten all't nation a lafEn at him. Besoid 
 his Bill is'nt practicable : and o shud think he'l 
 ne'er be so soft as to bring it in. 
 
 Jack — A bodda cahnt get a word in edgeway 
 we yo ; it must be a shockin bad Bill : but o shud 
 loike to hear it read, an then o can judge for me 
 sen. Jooa, read it, wilta ? 
 
 JooA — O've na patience to read sitch stuff; thah 
 may get summada else. 
 
 HapxRa — O'l read it the, oud lad, but o do'nt 
 loike it. {Here he begins to read, but is inter- 
 rupted.) 
 
 BiLLA — Thro it it foir. 
 
 Jooa — Put it it wheel kit. 
 
 Tom — Rip it up. 
 
 Jack Swallow — Aht at winder we it. 
 
 Harra — Cum, cum ; Jack owt to hear it, at 
 onna rate, as weel as us. Soilence. {Harry 
 proceeds to the end.) 
 
 Jack — Thank the, Harra, o can exercise me 
 awn judgement nali. 
 
 Jooa — Wa, an wot dusta think abaht it, eh ? 
 
 Jack — Why, I think there's na need to black t' 
 poor fellow, as yo'n been blackin him. Wot is 
 ther in it ats so varra bad ? O can see nowt. 
 
 Bill A — Then thah't bloind ; its all bad ; there's 
 not a bit a good in it. 
 
 Jack — Billa, thah deeals rather to much it 
 wholesale line for me ; but cum nah, let us examine 
 these objections fairly, and withaht prejudice a 
 ot'her side.
 
 88 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack S-wallow — That's nowt but reit, an o 
 think if they'r fairly lookt into, they'l be fun pratta 
 weighty. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, Tom Swipes says at it al 
 bring't spy system up. Nah o think not ; o think 
 it differs varra much throo't spy system, for it must 
 be considered that t' pohce officer al have no 
 inducement whatever to tak a man unjustly, and 
 secondly, it al be a varra difficult matter for him 
 to get two witnesses aht an a ale-ass to swear 
 that anuther wer drunk. 
 
 Jooa — But policeman ad hire men a purpos to 
 sware owt. 
 
 Jack — Then he'd be sooa much bigger a fooil to 
 pay part of his wages to others for doing wot ad 
 nivver benefit him a fardin. That al not do, at 
 onna rate. 
 
 BiLLA — Wa, o think me sen't policeman 
 wod'nt be sitch a flat as that no'ther ; but gooa on 
 Jack. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, Jooa Guzzle says at ivvera 
 bodda's laffin at it. An if they are, what does that 
 prove ? O laft at it becos it pleased me, be fillin 
 me we ho])es that ere long drunkenness would be 
 no longer practised in this christian country : others 
 laff at it because they think it a silly bill ; and some 
 leign to laff, who at the same time, are afraid of 
 losing their traffic ; but after all ; it is much easier 
 to laff at a bill than to prove it unreasonable ; it 
 must take a man of some parts to shew by a pro- 
 cess of reasoning that any new project will or will 
 not succeed ; but any idiot may laff, although he 
 may not be able to advance one single stej) in any
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 89 
 
 argument whatever. Yes, and many who wish to 
 be thought wise men find it more convenient to lafT 
 at an argument than to refute it. — ^^Vell then, Jooa 
 seems to think at he's a reit to get drunk onna 
 toime w^hen he's a moind ; nah o say he has'nt. 
 He's nooa business to get diamk at all, becos a man 
 wots drunk is a nuisance to society. The man wot 
 deprives his sen of the use of his reason, is not fit 
 for the company of reasonable beings. An habitual 
 drunkard is a walking pest. His belly is like a 
 swill-tub, an his jflesh andbones ai'e as foul as a rotten 
 turnip. The stench of his besotted cai'case is 
 actually unbarable : he's neither fit for earth, 
 heaven, nor hell ; he's a creature ^vithout compari- 
 son, for he's neither like man, beast, nor devvle — 
 
 Tom — Houd, houd. Jack, thah't layin't sledge 
 hammer on ; o cahnt stan it no longer ; thah's 
 made me hate seet a me sen, ommast. For wot o 
 think, o'l neai- get drunk no mooar ; thah's changed 
 moi opinion at bill, o avver. 
 
 Jack — But Harra Sap says it's unjust; becos, 
 says he, t' lanlords has spent so much money e 
 makkin alterations an accomodations for ther 
 customers. O'm sm'e, Harra, thah't vaiTa feelin. 
 T' lanlords owt to be obliged to thee : thah'l get a 
 glass for that, o'm shure. But dusta think, Harra, 
 at when these misery-makkers made these altera- 
 shons, at they studdid thah interest or ther awn, 
 eh ? There can be httle daht abaht this queshton; 
 an let me tell the, at they were made with a shure 
 calkillation at sitch dupes as thee had pay for it ? 
 ^yell then. Jack Swallow thinks " at theal be as 
 much drunkenness when t' Bill's past as ther is
 
 90 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 nail." But o think not ; for there's a many wot o.l 
 get drunk, wot wod'nt loike to gooa tot hoil for it ; 
 that's clear enufF. An then if a lanlord nobbut gets 
 foind wonce for havvin a man drunk in his house, 
 he'l tak care at that chap near gets drunk there 
 agean ; that's another check. An besoid, there al 
 not be aboon won-sixt at ale-ases at ther is nah ; 
 an nooa dramshops ; it al be all up we that set. 
 Sooa there al not be't means at there is nah. But 
 Jack wants to know wot's to becum on his famala 
 when he's it hoil. Prethe, Jack, wot becums a the 
 famala whenthah't drinkin three or four days a w^ek, 
 eh ? Wot dusla do we the famala then, eh ? Thah't 
 van-a uneasy abaht the famala then, arnt ta, eh ? O 
 can tell thee wot becums on em. Tha woife, wot 
 wer wonce as bloomin a lass as ivver't sun shoined 
 on, is nah reduced to a mere skeleton ; her squalid 
 cheeks tells a tale of woe hardla to be utter 'd, with- 
 out wishin she had never been born, or cm'sing the 
 hour when she gave herself away to one who makes 
 her life intolerable. The childer are covered, and 
 hardla cover 'd, e\en with rags, an hofe pined to 
 death ; whilst thou art skulking at the ale-house, 
 finding fault, to be sure, with the parliament men 
 for makkin bad laws, an not finding us wark enuff*, 
 when at same toime thah't to idle to doo hofe a wot 
 ta has ; an there tliah sits we the poip e the cheek, 
 an a sti'eeara of filthy slaver running down both 
 sides a the besotted malith, an the rags all bedaubed 
 we rolling, loike a pig, e the awn muck, a spectacle 
 too ugly, too filthy, too loathsome for human eyes 
 to behold, without a shudder of disgust striking 
 through one's frame. Tliere thah sits, quite ripe
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 91 
 
 for anything horrid or abominable ; neither the 
 tender entreaties of an affectionate wife, nor thy 
 children's piercing cries for bread, can make the 
 slightest impression on thy callous heart ; nothing 
 but oaths and curses can escape thy slaky lips. 
 What a mass of corruption — what a human muck- 
 middin ; — what a sample a depravity, only to be 
 seen on earth ! What al becum a the famala when 
 thah't e prison ! — Good stars ! why, they will be a 
 thousand times happier withaht the ; the wife ad 
 bring the childer up comfortably but for thy drun- 
 kenness. Thah's popt all the awn clooas, an hers 
 anole, an thah nocks her eyes up because shoo 
 weant foind thee summat else to swallow. Thah 
 wears the Sunday clooas ivvera day, an thah't 
 forced to sit lounging uppat arston withaht shirt 
 whoile the woife weshes it. Thah's nobbut won 
 pair a shoes, an thah't forced to tee em rahnd the 
 ankles ; an thah get the coit sleeve torn off tuther 
 neet in a lark when thah owt to been e bed ; an 
 thah wants to kno wot's to becum a the famala, eh ? 
 Aye, aye, thah must be trubbled abaht the famala ! 
 
 Jack Swallow — Its all true; but thah did'nt 
 owt to let lo'ce a that fashion : buto'st be loik to 
 alter. 
 
 Jack — The next objection is, says Tom Swipes, 
 t' JeiTy shops are to be closed at eight o'clock, we 
 am't to have a point after we'n dun. O yes you 
 may: brew yerself, Tom, 'yo'l get it for hofe at 
 price, and ten times better. But its my opinion 
 you would be much better without any ; however, 
 at onna rate, you'l be better without Jerry shop ale. 
 Well then, another evil in this drunken Bill is that
 
 92 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 these shoi^s are to be closed on Sundays. This is 
 the best bit abaht it ; for to see a man drunk at 
 week-days is bad enuff; but to see a fellow come 
 rolling di"unk on a Sunday mornin, (when others 
 are just going to the house of God,) reeling and 
 staggering about from one side of the path to the 
 other, insulting every one wot his heavy eyes can 
 get a lazy look at, is a crime doubly sinful ; it is a 
 direct insult to all law both hmnan and divine. But 
 how much mors reasonable would it be if men, 
 instead of visiting the ginshop on a Sunday mornin, 
 would repair to some place of devotion, there to 
 mingle their praises to that God who is the author 
 of their existence, who has blest them with all the 
 comforts of life, and made such ample provision for 
 their present and eternal welfare ! This would be 
 sometliing like rationality ; and were this the con- 
 stant practice of men, those infernal haunts of vice, 
 the ginsho])s, would soon become extinct, sobriety 
 would take the place of drunkenness, and a great 
 moral refomiation would be the consequence. 
 
 BiLLA — Its no yuse tokin mun, his bill's 
 not practicable, an besoide, cuntry's not prepared 
 for it 
 
 Jack — Well, but wot part at bill is it ats not 
 practicable ? 
 
 BiLLA — AVhoy its all on it not practicable. 
 
 Jack — But how dusta know — by what ju'o- 
 cess of reasoning can ta pi'ove it ? 
 
 BiLLA — Whoy becos iwera body says at hah it 
 is'nt. 
 
 Jack — But it ofTens happens at wot iwera 
 boddasays is a loi. Dus'nt thah know. Bill, at
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 93 
 
 " they say" is t' first word of a loi ? Besoicle thah 
 shud nivver black a man's character we heearsay 
 tales ; thah shud awlis hear an see for the sen, an 
 then thah can exercise the awn judgment uppat 
 case. O mun have it proved before o can believe 
 it. 
 
 BiLLA — Well o do'nt care wot ta says, o'm sure 
 it is'nt. 
 
 Jack — But if thah cahnt prove it is sooa, thah'd 
 better houd the noise. Hah dusta know its 
 impracticable ? 
 
 Bill A — Whoy becos it is. 
 
 .Jack — '' Whoy becos it is !" This is a gene- 
 ral argument against this drunken bill. If we ask 
 a score fellows why the bill is impracticable, we get 
 a similar answer, "Whoy becos it is!" But 
 pre the Billa, is it impracticable to give up selling 
 small quantities of spirits on the premises — or to 
 shut up these dens of destruction on the Sabbath- 
 day — or to close beer shops at eight o'clock at neet, 
 or to sell the licenses to the highest bidder — which 
 would prevent favouritism — are these things imprac- 
 ticable ? To me, at least, they seem easy enufFto 
 be done. 
 
 Billa — Abber onear look't at it a that road. 
 But thah ma depend on it, cuntry's not ready 
 • for it. He wants ta do to much at wonce mun. 
 
 Jack — Can a man do to much to remove the 
 greatest evil that ever cursed the land ? — Drimken- 
 ness is the crying sin of England, and the man who 
 employs liis time and talents (as Buckingham has 
 done) for its removal, is an honor to his countiy. 
 To hear sich men as thee, Billa, make sich
 
 94 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 objections, is not so much to be wondered at; but 
 to hear men who profess to be the followers of 
 Jesus Christ telling the world that the people are 
 not prepared for the removal of drunkenness, is a 
 sickner. Then it appears that drunkenness is 
 necessary a little longer yet ; and although a remedy 
 might be found, the country's not prepared for it. 
 What do they mean ? 
 
 BiLLA — Whoy, they mean at hah he shud ha 
 done it by degrees. 
 
 Jack — Yes, just as men get drunk by degrees. 
 But o think that half measures al nivver do any 
 good m this case; it must be a regular sweeper to 
 upset drunkenness. It is a desperate case, and 
 requires severe treatment. Suppose a man attacked 
 by the cholera, and the physicimi, seeing it to be a 
 desperate case, orders mustard plasters to be applied 
 to his body, and his friends tell the medical 
 gentleman that the patient is not prepared for it ; 
 w^hat would he say, or what would he think of sucli 
 conduct ? 
 
 Tom — Whoy, he'd say they wanted him to 
 dee. 
 
 Jack — Yes, and he most certainly would dee, by 
 degrees anole. Drunkenness then is a moral 
 cholera; and it will require a mighty effort to 
 remove it. But I grant there are some who are 
 not prepared for it. It is a fact that a person said 
 he would risk hell for drink ; — he was not prepared 
 for it. The gin and spirit sellers, whose traffic 
 brings on individuals and families an overwhelming 
 flood of misery and distress, are not prepai'ed for it. 
 The drunkard, the debauchee, and the prostitute are
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT- 95 
 
 not ready for it. But who are prepared for it? 
 Every sober, honest, and industrious man ; every 
 one who has the fear of God before his eyes. These 
 are prepared for it. And ask the children of the 
 drunkard — ask his v.retched, ragged, and all but 
 murdered vvife, — ask the mother, driven to des- 
 peration by the execution of her dissipated son; 
 and the orphan, made so by the untimely death of 
 drunken parents ; — ask the convict, who broke the 
 laws of his country in a state of intoxication ; — ask 
 the emaciated youth, whose vicious life has stretched 
 him on a bed of sickness, with the certainty of death 
 before his eyes, and the more fearful expectation of 
 hell in a I'uture state, as the just rew^ard of his 
 infatuation (for the word of God informs us that 
 drunkai'ds shall not inherit the kingdom of heaven) 
 — ask these then, if they are prepared for it. 
 ^Vhat then, will religious men still affirm that the 
 country's not prepared for it ? Let a blush of shame 
 redden their cheek, and a sigh of repentence heave 
 their breast for ever having uttered a sentence so 
 cruel and so untrue. 
 
 Tom — O'l ne'er say nowt agean him na mooar. 
 
 Jack Swallow — Nor me no'ther. 
 
 Harra — Abodda v>er in a passion. 
 
 BiLLA — O think different o't Bill nah, but still o 
 think it al not pass. 
 
 JooA — kno his Bill's agean mo habits ; but 
 he'st have mo vooat, cum when he will.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 
 
 BiLLA Slape — Hesta seen that letter at wer e 
 Wila's winder, Bil, abalit Backingham ? becos o 
 understand he says at hah we're all on us a pack a 
 thickheeads e Shevvild. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Thah't shiu'e he sed sooa, are 
 ta, BiUa ? 
 
 Bill A — ^^Va, o heeard a chap say sooa wot red 
 it, an menny a won besoide. 
 
 BiL — Abbut he near sed nowt at sooat. Wot 
 he sed wer summat else. As near as o can remem- 
 ber, he sed at hah ivvera parliament man owt to be 
 as much superior to his constituents e legislative 
 knowledge as a father is to his childer, or a school- 
 mester to his scholars ; an o think sooa anole. He 
 must have a muddy set a brains at studies politics 
 ommast all his loife, an yet kno's no mooar abaht 
 good or bad government, vroise or foohsh laws, nor 
 a workin man. But still he dus'nt say at ivvera 
 legislator is sooa, but at they owt to be. 
 
 BiLLA — But o reckon he means ta say at he is.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 97 
 
 Bill — If he dusnt mean to saj sooa, o do. 
 Pretlie, wot did onna on lis kiio abalit t'East Inda 
 Company's monoppola befooar lie cum an tell'd us ; 
 an wot did we kno abalit duties of" a legislator 
 befooar he inform 'd us it Music HallP An whooal 
 ivver forget him pepperin Eneas Macdonald ? 
 Eneas nivver will ; an o'l venter to say, at wot he 
 sed that afternoon, proved at he'd mooar knowledge 
 abaht that subject than all't politishons e Shevvild 
 put together. — But whooas cummin ? 
 
 JooA Guzzle — O it's Lusha — drunk ageean. 
 
 BiL — It puts me abaht, Lusha, to kno hah thah 
 carries on ; thah's been drunk ivvera day for a fort- 
 nit, an near struckn a strooak ; an thah kno's we 
 want t' knoives to finish, an the m ester wants to 
 livver em, but it's ten to won but he'l get t' 
 order cahntermahnded nah. 
 
 Lusha — Dusta houd owt, Billa, o want another 
 Jill, an then o'l gooa to me wark. Match me this 
 hopena, witta P 
 
 BiL — If ta arnt off, Lusha, varra sooin, o'l thro 
 thee it goit, thah idle scamp. They toke abaht 
 gToinders (an we kno they're bad enuff, sum on 
 em ) , but they're nobbada where thah cums. There's 
 nowt at thah'l not do for ale. Thaht the mooast 
 infamous loiar at ivver existed ; thah went last week 
 to yore mester, an teld him the woife wer e labor, 
 an thah wanted ten shillm to get summat to mak 
 her cumfoitable we. O dear aye, shoe's sum cum- 
 fort we thee, shoo has : — but thah cud'nt cum it ; 
 he kno'd his man. An then thah set off tot Funeral 
 Club, an teld em the woife wer deead, an thah pre- 
 tended to rooar, did'nt ta ? But thah's not dun we 
 
 H
 
 98 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 that yit. An becos tliah cud'nt cum no'ther a these 
 points, thah went hooani, an whoil the woife went 
 aht to beg a morsel a bread for't childer, thah fetcht 
 bed an pawn'd it for seven shiUin, an the woif an 
 three childer's been fooast to lig uppat straw ii^^^er 
 sin, an nah they're gone tot warkass, an if thah 
 dus'nt cut thali mun gooa for a munth — but here 
 he cums ; it's all up nah — (Constable comes in, 
 iv'ith Lushy's wife's father.) 
 
 Constable — Cum, Lusha, thah mun go we 
 me — thah'l get it this this time. 
 
 Father — Of all the disgusting objects that ever 
 came in contact with my vision, thou ai't the most 
 hateful. Thou hast an human form, 'tis true, but 
 there is nothing else about thee worth the name. 
 Thou art completely stultified, and completely lost 
 to all sense either of shame, honour, or consistency. 
 Not a single feeling of love or affection is ever kin- 
 dled in thy breast, no, not to the dearest friend thou 
 hast on earth. Thy life is loathsome, even to thy- 
 self ; and ihy vicious appetite has rendered thee 
 incapable of ever extricating thyself from the abso- 
 lute power of a tyrant, whose influence increases 
 upon thee the longer thou art governed by him. 
 That unquenchable thirst for ale which possesses 
 thee, has stript thee of every thing like rationality, 
 so that thy present state, wTetched as it is, excites 
 no feelings of contrition in thy heai't. Admonition 
 is lost upon thee ; it is like throwing a spark into 
 a sink of filth and nastiness, only to be extinguished 
 the moment it falls. Thou hast mixed up with 
 thy composition a poisonous infusion, which will 
 prey upon thy vitals as insidiously, yet as securely.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 99 
 
 as the blood-suckir.g vampyre. Thou livest hated 
 and hatmg, and (if grace prevent not,) tbou wilt 
 die unlamented, and thy children will dance thee 
 to thy grave. 
 
 Constable — I think I do'nt need to hopple 
 thee ; thah can hardly walk, much more run away. 
 Come on, my lad, thah'l be sober when thah's 
 been a neet under t'clock. {Constable takes him 
 away.) 
 
 Jack — This is a stiifner, o avver. Whooad 
 ivver a thowt at onna chap ad a dun \\o\ he's dun 
 for ale ! 
 
 Harry Sap — A man, we 'n seen many a plate at 
 thah kno's nowt abaht. 
 
 Jack — Cum then lets have sum on em. 
 
 BiLLA — O wonce seed a chap at ad chewbrokken 
 glass till't blood ran alit on his mahth a stream for 
 a point a ale ; an oVe seen two chaps gooa aht on 
 a alehouse into a pop-shop, an one on em pawn 
 his shoes cffen his feet, jump uppa tuther chap's 
 back, an ride back tot alehouse an spend't brass. 
 
 JooA — O once seed three on em tee a hofe brick 
 up e brahn paper, an put a knoif at ahtsoid, an 
 sell em to a Irishman for hofe a grooas a knoives ; 
 an o kno a woman at pawned her shift, sell'd froin 
 pan an smoothin iron, cut bottom at bed oppen, 
 took feathers aht an sell'd em to raise money for 
 ale ; an shoo wonce teed a sheet rahnd her body, 
 as her husband mut'nt see at shoo had owt, an 
 pawTied that. 
 
 Tom — Abbur o kno a better plate nor onna o 
 them, at wor made sin Christmas, uppat Mooar. 
 Ther wor foive on em ; well then, two on em went
 
 100 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 iiilo an oud habce, and one pull'd liis trahsers off, 
 a varra good pair anole, aii there lie sat in a corner 
 hole starved to deeath, whoile tiither lot went an 
 pawned em for foive shillin. Wa then, they 
 set off to a clock makker at seil'd clocks for foiv^e 
 shillin t' furst payment an a shillin a week after. 
 They got a clock, went an popt that for fifteen 
 shillin, then went an lo'sed chap's trahsers an took 
 em tot oud hahce, an then they'd ten shillin to 
 spend. O've seen a woman sell her bonnet for 
 tuppence-hopena, an o kno two chaps at nockt ther 
 vices up an pawned them for ale ; an o've knone 
 chaps, mooar nor v.once, get a looad a coils o ther 
 mester, an order em to be liver'd at a alshahce for 
 a shillin or two less nor they cost, for hofe money 
 an hofe ale 
 
 Harry — O kno a chap at listed fort sake of a 
 shillin to get some ale, an at after wor fooast to 
 pawn a suit of clooas to raise money to pay't smart 
 we ; he wor a sharp an, wo'nt he. O've seen a 
 pensioner pawn his affidavy, an o've seen anuther 
 get beef stakes a strap, an sell em for ale : o've 
 seen steel left for ale, an o've seen a fellow pull his 
 shirt off an sell that for ale ; an o've seen breead 
 seil'd hot aht at oven for ale. 
 
 Jack Swallow — Wa but o kno on a dacent 
 plate or two. O kno a oud lass at went to a dram 
 shop for a bottle a ghi, an moind ya, shoo'd two 
 bottles in her basket, an won wor filled we watter, 
 an when t'chap ad filled her bottle we gin, shon 
 took it, put it intot basket, an pullin tiither i 
 rather in a hurry, shoo sed, " O dear, just let n 
 leave it here whoile o crooa it maiket, an then < 1
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT- 101 
 
 call an pay for it." " O yes, to be sure," sed 
 t 'waiter, " we'll take care of it." An sooa he did, 
 for shoo ne'er fetch 't it. O've knone a chap gooa 
 liooam after he'd been drinkin a week, to pay his 
 woife till shoo ged him a shillin at shoo'd getn be 
 weshin : an as for poppin coits. Bats, shoes, an 
 sitch loike, that's a ivvera day job. 
 
 BiL — O've had it teld nie for a truth, at a chap 
 had been drinkin for a fortnit, an durin that time 
 one on his childer fell badla. His woife went an 
 teld him many a toirne at it wer loikla to dee, but 
 he wod'nt move. In a day or two it deed, an won 
 at childer went to tell him that, but he wod'nt leave 
 his lush. Well, just when his woife had getn 
 ivvera thing redda for beniu't choild, in he cams, 
 taks coffin offat table, sets it ontot flooar, sams table 
 up, taks it away, an pops it for mooar ale. 
 
 Jack Swallow — See the, Jooa, here's Fuddle's 
 lass bringin sum wark on her shoolder ; hah's that, 
 o wunder ? 
 
 Jooa — Are ta fooast to carry t' wark thesen, 
 lass ? wot's ta dun wit jackass ? has he getn it 
 pinfoud, or hah ? 
 
 Lass — Nou, he's not it pinfoud as o kno on, 
 but he's disappeared. 
 
 Jooa — Wot, has he flown away, then ? 
 
 Lass — Nou, he's nobbut a unloikly bird to floi. 
 
 Jooa — Wa, wot's becum'd on him then, let's be 
 kno in. 
 
 Lass — Well, if o mun tell ya't truth — me fath'er's 
 swallow 'd him. 
 
 Jooa — The lath er's svrallow'd him ! He must 
 have a rare wide gullet ; hah did he get him dahii '
 
 102 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 
 
 Lass — he melted liim, an he went dahn be 
 degrees ? 
 
 BiL — See the. Jack, here's Dr. Letsom's hst of 
 the effects of drunkenness ; — idleness, peevishness, 
 quarrelling, fighting, lying, swearing, obscenity, 
 swindling, peij my, burglary, murder, and suicide. 
 Drunkenness brings on sickness, puking, and tre- 
 mors in the hands in the morning ; bloatedness, 
 inflamed eyes, red face, sore and swelled legs, jaun- 
 dice, pains in the hmbs, and burning in the palms 
 of the hands and soles of the feet, dropsy, epilepsy, 
 melancholy, madness, palsy, apoplexy, death ; and 
 is punished by debt, black eyes, broken bones, rags, 
 hunger, hospital, poorhouse, gaol, whipping, the 
 hulks, Botany Bay, the gallows. 
 
 Jack — After this, I would ask again, whether 
 society is not prepared for a bill, the principles of 
 which strike at the root of all these calamities ? 
 
 BiLLA — But then, they fomd fault we Bucking- 
 ham limitin't number a public hahses. 
 
 Jack — O it ad mak em mooar respectable, an 
 less Hable to encourage drunkenness ; an besoide, 
 we shud happen get ale we not quoite so menny 
 Irimmins in. 
 
 Tom — Wot dusta meean be trimmins e ale ? o 
 near heeai'd tell a that befooar. 
 
 Jack — O thah should ha heeard Pollai'd when 
 he wor here, an then thah'd a knone wot trimmins 
 wor : but o'l tell the wot he sed. Won a these tom 
 an jeny chaps sent a note to a druggist for 
 trimmins for two pecks of malt. The druggist sent 
 wot he thought was the order, an the man brewed, 
 an he gave't grains to two fat pigs, which killed em
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. tOS 
 
 booatli. The man went tot druggist an tell'd him 
 he must a sent him wrong stuff, fort grains had 
 poisoned his pigs. The druggist lookt at the note, 
 and found he had given him trimmins for two packs 
 of malt instead of two pecks. Eighteen penneth a 
 tiimmins al mak as much ale as a seek a malt ; an 
 this is home -brew 'd ale. 
 
 Tom — An wots trimmins prethe ? 
 
 Jack — Henbane seed, grains a paradise, vitriol, 
 opium, tobacco, an sich loik poisonous stuff. O 
 kno a woman at sent to a certain ale hahse e this 
 tahn for a jill a ale, an it made her so drunk at her 
 husband wor fooast to help her up stairs to bed. 
 
 BiL — See the, Tom, here'st comforts of a 
 drunken man, here, copied from the window of J. 
 Nicholson, Bolton, a reformed drunkard. "A 
 weary body, bitter belchings, red and inflamed eyes, 
 very drowsy, head-ache, dry lips, parched throat, 
 little appetite, wants some ale or spirits, no money, 
 credit gone, landlady very saucy, wife crying — now 
 scolding — then swearing, childi'en dirty, fire low, 
 shivering with cold, shop bill not paid, clothes 
 pawned, employment lost, character gone, cannot 
 face the overseers, no demand for soldiers, neither 
 money nor clothes to tramp with, no resource but 
 these — a rope, a knife, or a pit." 
 
 Tom — Well he's miserable enuff o'm sure. Wot 
 fools we are to bring all this misery on us sens fort 
 sake a ale ; but o'l join't Temperance Society be- 
 fore o'm a day ouder. 
 
 BiLLA — Will ta be a tee-totaler, Tom '^ 
 
 Harra — O he's not prepared for a tee-totaler , 
 he'd better soign't moderate pledge, an then he can 
 ha a point when he loiks.
 
 104 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 JooA — Aye to be sure, lie mun ha wot al 
 do him good, he dus'nt need ta get drunk, yo 
 kno'ne. 
 
 Jack Swallow — He would be soft to be a tee- 
 totaler ; besoide its not a loikla thing at a chap wots 
 been yu'st to have ale iv vera day, an get drunk 
 every week, could leave it off all at once; it's not 
 practicable. 
 
 BiLLA — Nou, nou, it al be troin to do ta much 
 at wonce. 
 
 Tom — O'l tell yo wot o think abaht it : o think 
 o nivver felt better prepared for it e all me life, for; 
 o feel quoite determined nivver to taste owt onna 
 more at al mak me drunk. 
 
 BiL — Stick to that, oud lad, an thah'l be a 
 happy man. Let " Never touch, lads," be the 
 motto. A firm resolution and perseverance is all 
 at's necessary to prepare a drunkard for a tee-totaler. 
 Hunderds have had sitch resolutions, an hunderds 
 are enjoying 't benefits on it nah, an whoy not 
 thee ? 
 
 Jack — Thah mut just as weel ask an habitual 
 drunkard to get drunk agean, as to ask him to 
 soign't moderate pledge. This is just sich like jargon 
 as is browt agean Mr. Buckingham's bill. 
 
 BiL — O believe e me very soul, at that bill, if 
 pass'd into a law, together wit exertions at Tem- 
 perance Societies, ad produce mooar happiness e 
 this cuntra, nor onna bill ats passed t' Hahce a 
 Commons fort last century.
 
 THE shp:ffield dialect. 
 
 THE 
 
 TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Nah, Jack, hah ai*e ta, o hooap 
 thaht better after the jouraey ; hah dnsta loik C lee- 
 thorps 
 
 Jack Wheelswarf — O, o'm a gud deal better, 
 lad, an o loik Cheethoi^is rarela ; it's a proime 
 place to gooa too ; cockles gTows there, mim ; o 
 think we get aboon a peck t' same day o get there. 
 
 BiL — What cooach did ta gooa by ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, thah'd na kashon to ax sitch a 
 (j^ueshton as ihat ; — be't Red Rover, to be shure ; 
 o'st near gooa v>e nobbada else but Dan ; he'st best 
 an't steddiest droiver uppat rooad, an besoide o near 
 seed him drunk e me loife, an he's awlis so cheerful 
 an civil anole. 
 
 BiL — Aye, o believe he's a varra stedda droiver, 
 an a sober chap anole.. an that's what he's loik't for. 
 
 Jack — Hub's temperance chaps gemn on, dusta 
 kno :'
 
 106 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — rarela ; but wot dusta tliiiik ? thear s 
 sum a these drunken politislions tells us, at if it 
 worat for't public haiises, we shud be all kept e 
 ignorance, becos it's thear they hear'n all ther news. 
 They're shaq^ ans, anit they ? Nah, suppooas 
 they read a daily paper, an spend sixpence a neet, 
 that ad .be three shillin a week ; but ii" foive on em 
 ad join, they mut have' a paper for a penny a neet, 
 that ad be hofe a crahn less nor if they went tot 
 alehass, an it ad save em't trouble a gettin drunk 
 anole. 
 
 Jack — Here'st loif a Jooa Guzzle here Bill, 
 mun e read it the ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, let's hev it. 
 
 Jack — {reading) — The first thing at Jooa 
 Guzzle can remember wor his being put e breeches, 
 an t' second thing wor he get drunk at same day ; 
 an after this his father us't to tak him a walkin at 
 Sundays, an call at alehahses lo get a point a ale, 
 an while he wor very young he became quite a drunk- 
 ard. His father put him prentice to a tailor, an 
 he wor a drunkard anole ; an sooa booath't mester 
 an t' father an't son wor all on em drunkards. Jooa 
 had six shilHn a week for his board, which he 
 regilarly spent e ale, &c. iv\Tra week. When he 
 wor just turned fifteen, he ran away to Lunnun, get 
 a good place a wark, an here he spent mooast on 
 his money we goin to balls an theatres, till his 
 cloathes begun to be shabby ; he then begun a 
 going to alehahses, an sich loik low places. He got 
 a foreman's place at two pahnd a week, staid abaht 
 six year e Lminun, an then ran away to Liverpool, 
 where he cum throo : here he get married to a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 107 
 
 vaiTa respectable lass, at vvor uncommonly weel 
 clooathed; but thfiy had'ntbeen manied longbefooar 
 he swallad em all, an then run away to Lunnun 
 agean, an shoo followed hhn. He staid e Lunnun 
 this time just as long as he could get onna ale a 
 strap, for, said he, o cud'nt turn't corner of a street 
 but o met a ghost. He then run away to Brighton 
 an teli'd a chap to tell his woif at he wor gone to 
 Liveq^ool, an of course his woif went after him. 
 In a bit a toime he left Biighton, an went back to 
 Lunnun, but not finding his woif he set off for 
 Livei^^ool ; his woif determined not to live we him 
 onna mooar, but his promises of amendment caused 
 her to troi him agean. He then began business 
 for his sen, an got so much trade that he employed 
 two or three journeymen, but still he would have 
 his lush, an one day he went we a friend to see 
 his cousin, at w^or a steward it Glasgow steam 
 packet, v.'here he got so beastly drunk that he 
 fell asleep, an cud'nt be wakken'd, sooa they 
 sailed away we him drunk as he wor. When 
 he wakken'd next moniin, he stared abaht him 
 an wonder 'd where he'd getten to ; he wor in a 
 snug little paiior he thowt, but where he wor 
 he cud'nt tell. In a bit, o awer, t' captain 
 cum dahn — "Well my boy," said he, "do you 
 know where you are, this moniing ?" " No, Sir, 
 said he, " that o don't." " Well," said the cap- 
 tain, " bat you are on the road to Glasgow." 
 Well, thowt he, o'm in a noist mess this toime, 
 for he'd fifteen soverins in his pocket, an he'd 
 left his men withaht ther wage; but, o awer, 
 he thowt he mut as weel mak his sen easy, an
 
 108 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 mak't best he could on a bad job. In a while 
 they reached Glasgow, where he went ashore, 
 an't furst thmg at he lookt for wor a ale-ass, 
 an he wornt long afooar he fun won, an in he 
 went, got drunk, an some sober man pickt his 
 pocket of all his sovrins, and left him pennyless. 
 In this predicament the mester turned jour- 
 neyman, an went to seek wark, when he met we 
 some of his Lunnun shopmates, an instead a 
 workin, they all took to drinkin for abaht a 
 fortnit, but at last Jooa tired em all aht ; an 
 sooa he set oft' an cadged his way to Edin- 
 burgh, an being a good workman he soon get 
 wark. Here he begun to visit what they call 
 singing houses, called free an easy, an being a 
 capital good singer, soon form'd an acquaint- 
 ance with the principal men. He was much 
 noticed by the Earl of Falkirk, and he soon 
 found means to get into the Earl's pocket, for 
 he lent him a sovrin and invited him to go out 
 airing with him next morning ; however he 
 went into another part of the city that night, 
 got drunk, an got his pocket pick'd of all but 
 sixpence hopena ; with this he set off uppa 
 tramp agean, an in a while once more reached 
 Livei*pool. He ageean went to his friends an 
 made many fair promises, an they assisted him 
 agean. Well, he got on very w^ell agean, but 
 still he liked the lush, until at last he sold 
 some cloth belonging to some gentlemen wot 
 he wor goin to mak some clothes for, an then 
 he cut agean, he then went to Bristol, an from 
 there took a vaiTa long rahnd till he came to
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 109 
 
 Shevvild ; here he got wark, aii't same day he 
 got so beastly drunk that the person .where he 
 lodged at would'nt have him m, till he wor 
 persuaded he some of his friends. He con- 
 tinued to drink all that week, an when he 
 could get no more he popt his boots to raise 
 more ale, an when he'd spent all't money, he 
 begun to w^ork — at Sunday morning to be 
 sure. At Monday he went tot shop, met one 
 at men, axt him to gooa an have an odd 
 point, but he would'nt, at last he consented, an 
 they continued driukin an odd point till ten 
 o'clock at neet, an all't next day. An at 
 Wednesday morning he went to his wark, 
 an durin t' day one at men begun a toking 
 abaht Mester Pollard's Lekter at Tahn Hall 
 uppa Temperance an sich loik, an sed at hah he 
 wer gooin to ge anuther at Lancasterian School, an 
 sooa Jooa ihowt he'd gooan hear what chap ad getn 
 ta say, an sooa he went, an the statements made be 
 Mr. Pollard came we sich force to his conscience 
 that he formed a resolution to soign't moderate 
 pledge, an sooa he did ; but, thowt he, if o tak vron 
 glass to do me good, o'st want two, an then three, 
 an o'st be drunk agean, sooa o'l have non at all; an 
 sooa he ged up driukin altogether. Abaht a fortnit 
 after this, thear wer a temperance tea drinkin it 
 Brunswick school-room, whear Jooa thowt he cud 
 loike to gooa ; but wot wor he to do ? he'd popt his 
 boots, an his clooas worut lit to be seen ; he'd 
 no'ther money nor credit ; o avver, he borrow 'd 
 some clooas a won at men, an away he went to 
 Brunswick School we a determhiaiion to soign t'
 
 110 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 tee-total pledge, an sooa he did, an's continued a 
 steady man ivver sin. He soon fetcht his boots 
 dahn't spaht agean, he bowt the clooas at he 
 borrowed, an soon after he bowt an entire new 
 suit, an then he paid all his ale shots off, an in a 
 little time after this, he sent some money home to 
 his friends, that they mut mak matters up we them 
 wot he'd defrauded afooar, an nali all things are 
 made comfortable. He's nah in his reight moind, 
 an on Saturday, June 27th, he left Shevvild for 
 Livei'pool, where he is now living as happy as ever 
 he lived miserable, an there's ivvera reason to 
 believe at he is at present under very serious im- 
 pressions. We will now ax these persons wot laff 
 at temperance societies, wot they think abaht this ? 
 It is not a fiction, but real fact, an this is not the 
 only victory which has been won bit exertions at 
 Shevvild Temperance Society. Thear's a chap 
 wot's living e Shevvild at this toime, wot nivver 
 had a hahce on his awn to live in afboiu* he joined 
 temperance society here ; but as soon as he join'd 
 em, his wife took a hahce directly, an all't furnitur 
 they had to put in it wor two stooans, an they han 
 em it cellar nah. But he soon get some furnitur 
 an sich loik, an nah both him an his woife an chil- 
 der are weel clothed an fed anole, an ther hahce 
 begins to look respectable. This is another laurel 
 for't crahn at temperance chaps.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 A CONTRAST. 
 
 Look on this Picture and on lliat. 
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S HOME. 
 
 A SATURDAY NIGHT SCEXE. 
 
 [ Goes into thehousereeling drunk, hut has scarcely 
 
 sat him down before the wife, like some fury, 
 
 thus addresses him — ] 
 
 Wife — A, thali claiii-vengence rooag, wheal's 
 tha wage, pretha ? 
 
 Husband — Houd yer noise. 
 
 Wife — O shahnt houd me noise, thah viiland ! 
 where are we to get siimmat to heit, thinks ta ? 
 Childer's hole poined to deeath, an thah cares no 
 mooar abaht em, na mooar nor if they wer as 
 menny dogs. 
 
 Husband — Th — th — th — tha mun pop sum- 
 mat- 
 
 Wife — Wot have e to pop, scamp ? thah's tain 
 all we han, long sin — its not a month sin ta popt 
 bed clooas ; an last week thah run away we little 
 Bill's shoes an pawned them for a shillin, an't poor 
 little fellow (here the tears roll down her cheeks) 
 has been forced to go barefoot. Look at him, un- 
 feeling wretch, as ta art ! O wish ta were 
 drahnded e ale. But o'l see wot t'overseers says 
 it monin. 
 
 Husband — Ge — ge — ge — ge — get us summat 
 to heit, or o'st mak ya jump just nah. 
 
 Wife — O would if o thowt it ad choke thee.
 
 112 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Husband — Gooa aii — {hickup) — get sum a 
 strap. 
 
 Wife — Gooa the sen, thah swiiie ! thah't ore't 
 heead an ears e debt nah, t'gi'ooacer's had nowt 
 this fortnight, an there's four pahnd on besoid : 
 thah't ready fort jail an o wish ta wer in, an nivver 
 to cum aht no mooar. 
 
 Husband — Wot do d care ? fetch us summat 
 to heit, or o'l nock yer een up, ya . 
 
 Wife (In a passion) — O'l see the stiff furst, 
 thah drunken swoine ! [He strikes her — she gets 
 the potter — he nocks her down — she screams mur- 
 der — the children, almost frighten'd to death, are 
 clinging to their mother — the neighbours get up — 
 call the watchman — watchman rattles at the door 
 — cries of " He'l murder me," from within — the 
 watchman breaks the door open — a regular scuffle 
 ensues — the husband, with the potter which he had 
 \vTenched from the feeble grasp of his half-famished 
 wife, and the watchman, with his paddle, fighting ; 
 battle royal — a few spankers about his ears, take 
 him off to the vvatch-house : the horrid scene is over; 
 and all this is the effect of drunkenness !] 
 
 THE HOME OF THE PIOUS TEM- 
 PERANCE MAN. 
 
 Every tlnng neat and clean : a handsome sofa — 
 hair-bottomed chairs — caq^et uppat floor it tuther 
 room — mahogany chest of drawers it chamber- 
 beautiful clock — good feather beds — a full cubbord
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 113 
 
 — a ratlin big ham an a flick a bacon hangs up 
 ageant wall — a bag a flour up stairs, an a thumpin 
 cheese it cellar. They don't gooa tot grooacer, 
 an say, "West pay ya for wot we han to-neet ;" 
 nou, nou, their 's is awlis reddy money — they'n 
 nivver to gooa it threeweek-streef^ — nivver botherd 
 wit baileys — nooa rent bad — nooa customers at the 
 popshop — nooa sittin up allt neet, waitin of a 
 drunken husband — nooa nightly brawls to distm'b 
 the peaceful slumbers of pious neighbours — no cries 
 of murder are ever heard here — no black eyes or 
 broken bones — no ragged and half-starved children 
 — no curses are exchanged between husband and 
 wife, until oaths are ended with blows — no sk:ulking 
 in the house allt day of a Sunday, with a head fit to 
 split from a drunken debauch the night before ! 
 No, no ! the father has three suits ; one to work in, 
 another for neets, ant tuther for Sundays — his 
 sraihng wife is seen occasionally in a silken di'ess, 
 and has lots a others laid by, but mind, they've 
 nivver been to my uncle's : here ai'e six young 
 immortals, four of which go to school every day, 
 and are not permitted to gallop the streets on a 
 Sunday ; but are neatly di'essed in beautiful blue, 
 and like as many little angels, are seen walking to 
 the house of God, to mingle their praises to the 
 God whom their parents have taught them to 
 honour ; and at night the father calls them together, 
 they read, they sing, and then the father prays, 
 and they sweetly retire to rest. And these are the 
 blessings of pious temperance ! 
 
 * The Court,
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE GOSSIPS. 
 
 " Whoso findeth a wife findetli a good thing/' 
 says Solomon ; (but o reckon he inent if he fun a 
 good an ;) an sooa we're of opinion at a beautiful 
 virtuous woife is just luvliest seet e all God's crea- 
 tion. When we think, for instance, of sitch splen- 
 did mind-stars as Mrs. Hemans, Hannah More, 
 an sitch loike as them, we actually forget at it war 
 possible for woman to do anything but please. O 
 avver, we're quoite shooar at if we'd had are ex- 
 istence in a higher rank of hfe, we nivver cud a 
 beheved one hofe a wot we're balm to tell. A mo- 
 ther's influence in her family is universal; and, there- 
 fore, if she be virtuous, her childer will be lovely, and 
 she will be loving and beloved by all around her; but 
 if she be a idle, ill-temper 'd gossip, wot loikes to 
 moind other fooaks's business, an neglect her awn, 
 why then, it's all up for happiness there ; her chil- 
 der will be clownish, ragged, an dirta ; her house 
 will be just loike a Irishman's wig, all in a uprooai* ; 
 her husband will seldom be seen uppen his awn 
 arston ; an " woe be to the man that dusnt loike his
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 115 
 
 arston next best to his woife an his wofe best of all ; it 
 wer better for hhn if he had ne'er been mamd. " Just 
 think for a minnit of a poor fellow cummin hooam 
 throo a hard day's wark at eight, or it may be noine 
 o'clock at neet, his woife gon aht as usual, childer 
 kickin up a row, foire omn:iast aht, an thear's no'ther a 
 bit a sooap nor a sup a watter for him to wesh him 
 we. Being completely maddled, he sets off tot 
 alehass, an get's drunk ; an that's the consequence 
 of his woife's gossipin. As for us sens, we'd rather 
 be exiled to Juan Fernandez nor be teed to sitch 
 vixens as these. An as to tokin abaht curin em, 
 why, it's all fudge ; for thear's nooa fizzick \>ithin't 
 raich a human skill wot can do it ; an we think at 
 when a chap's getn a idle, gossipin, ill-temper 'd 
 woife, his misery's just complete. Of all the dis- 
 tressin objects which a depraved world can possibly 
 present, the poor fellow wot's hamper'd we a crater 
 a this sooart has by far the strongest claims uppa 
 ahr sympathy. We may pity the wretch, but how 
 to advise we know not. Oh, says one, if o'd a woife 
 a that sooart, o'd do't same as't tubthumper did — 
 o'd hoop her. O dear aye, nockin a woman abaht, 
 an exchangin curses it seet an hearin at childer, 
 must have a gloriously happy tendency. Yes, yes, 
 there's a rectifying influence e black eyes, adder 
 say ! Nonsense ! the man wot beats his woife's a 
 monster of the mooast monstrous kind. 
 
 An sooa nali we'l inti'oduce ya tot arston a Dolly 
 Doolittle, whear yo'l see t' table an't chairs cuvver'd 
 all o'er we dust, t' sinkston full a pots an plates 
 unwesht, t' asnook full a cowks, potter, tongs, scum- 
 mer, an fender as rusta as oud horse shoos ; kettle
 
 116 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 uppat range end witliaht watter in, an a posnet it 
 asnook ; a chair here, an a stool tippled o'er yonder ; 
 two candlesticks staimin uppat cornish we as much 
 greeas u^jpat soides as ad greeas't shoos or a munth ; 
 t'hahce floor just loikt inside of a chandler's shop. — 
 Doha sits in a oud rockin chair, wit bottom stufft 
 we rags, her elbers uppen her knees, an her poipe 
 in her cheek ; her cap's just culler of a dirty candle ; 
 an her gahn, wot's unbutten'd behint's nooa culler at 
 all. But wots't mooast disgustin of all besoide ist 
 sicknin seet of her dirty heels throot's rents of her 
 equally dirty stockins. Her chamber's just loik an 
 oud clooas shop ; here's two or three squares 
 aht at winda, into which oud rags are stufft : 
 — in a word, ivvera thing booath up an dahn's all 
 confusion. 
 
 {In dims Dinah Dubhletung.) 
 
 Dinah Dubbletung — Yo'n not getn cleean'd 
 up yit, o see, Dolla. 
 
 Dolly Doolittle — Now,wumman, o'm shure 
 here's na dooin nowt whear thear's a yung choild 
 to nurse ; it's won boddis wark, o'm sartin. Ra-lee, 
 o'm nivver ofTa me feet throo mornin to neet, an o 
 fettle, fettle, fettle, an scrub, scrub, scrub, an o do'nt 
 see at o'm onna forrader. 
 
 Dinah — Wa, wumman, wot'st yuse a fettlin so 
 much ? a bodda's na better thowt on for it. Han 
 ya hecard at Fan Thrifta's bahn tubbe marrid ? 
 
 Dolly — Wot ivver dun ya tell me ! whoy, shoo's 
 not sixteen yit. 
 
 Dinah — Webbiit t' muther says shoo's ommast 
 nointeen ; but let that be as it will, it's true enufi.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 117 
 
 becos o had it teld me as a sacret be one wot knode 
 all abalit it, an o can tell ya whooa it wor, but yo 
 moVit say nowt. 
 
 Dolly — A, bless ya, nou, o'd be sony to men- 
 tion it. 
 
 DixAH — Whoy, it wer Nanna Frumper wot teld 
 me, but o promist her o'd say nowt, yo knone ; — 
 but slioo's here, whisht ! whisht ! 
 
 Dolly — Nah, mo lass, hah are ya to day, sit 
 ya dahn an get a bit a bacca. Wen heeard a 
 vaiTa queer tale this mornin, Nanna, but o think ii 
 cahnt be true. 
 
 Nanxa Frumper — Wot's it abaht, preya ? 
 
 Dolly — AVlioy, they sen at hah Fan Thiifty's 
 bahn tubbe marrid. 
 
 Nanxy — Hah, mo lass, it's true enuiij yo ma 
 depend ont. Yo knone they think at chap's a bit 
 a brass, an sooa they'l takt chonce whoil they han 
 it. O can tell ya whooa teld me, becos o kno 
 yo'l say nowt; o vvud'nt tell ivvera bodda, yo 
 knone. 
 
 Dolly — Wa, wumman, o shud nivver say nowt, 
 not o, an Dinah wod'nt, o think, 
 
 Nanny — Wa then, as yo'n booath promist to 
 say nowt, it wer Sidly Slutterdish at o get me news 
 throo, an o'l be bun fort shoo kno's : but o'l call 
 her in, an Mally Mendnowt anole ; they're booath 
 gettin a bit a bacca. 
 
 Dolly — O'm shure Fan Thrifty 's nowt at sooat 
 as nointeen, becos shoos just age a ahr Jooa, an 
 
 he's O they're here — sit ya dahn, mo lass ; 
 
 turnt stool up, Malla, anget intot corner, an ma yer 
 sen comfortable.
 
 118 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Dinah — Salla, we're just tokin abaht Fan 
 Thrifta gooin tubbe mai'ried ; ban yo beeard owt 
 ababt it ? 
 
 Sally Slutterdish — A bless ya, hab its 
 ti'ue enuff; but o believe't father an motber kno's 
 nowt ababt it : its quoit a sacret. But 3^0 ma 
 depend it is sooa ; is'nt it, tbink ya, Malla ? 
 
 Mally Mexdnowt — A dear, bless yer soul, 
 its true enuff; for o beeard at booatb't father an't 
 muther wants tubbe shut on her, shoos sitcb a 
 brute. 
 
 Dinah — Wa, that's news, o avver, Malla; 
 t'muther tell'd me shoo wert best lass at ivver 
 stept e shoo leather. But o say, Salla, bah did yo 
 get to kno, if its a fair queshton, for o shud loik to 
 kno all abaht it- 
 
 Sally — Wa, wumman, o cud tell ya, but 
 shud'nt loik ya to say at o've sed owt, becos yo 
 knone we're naburs ; an o wod'nt may na mischief 
 fort world ; but o beheve it wer ahr Tom's woife's 
 sister's husband's fath'er-e -law's brother's son's 
 prentis lad's cuzzen, wot beeard say sooa, an he 
 tell'd Jinna Howdnowt, an shoo teld Bess Blab, an 
 Bess tell'd Suke Slippytung, an Suke tell'd oud 
 Dame Wagjaw, ant oud dame tell'd Ruth Runagate, 
 an Ruth tell'd me ; but its quoit a sacret. 
 
 Nanny — Preya, Doha, wot's becum'd a Lydda 
 Luvgood ? shoo yus't to cum in an smook her poip, 
 but bav'nt seen her e yore hahce o kno'nt when ; 
 hab is it ? 
 
 Dolly — Wot'n ya been dooin, wumman, at yo 
 ha'nt heard afooar nab ? Shoo's turn'd Mettodiss, 
 choild ; here's a strange alteration in her, o'l ifi3-
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 1J9 
 
 houd ya. Yo kno'n shoo near ynst to get up on a 
 Sunday monin afooar noine o'clock, but nah shoos 
 up be six, an'st childer up an drest, an's off tot 
 chapel be eight. An as for prayin, shoo's at it all 
 along ; shoo prays it monm as sooin as shoo gets 
 aht a bed, an shoo prays at noon, an then agean at 
 neet ; an shoo's at chapel as offen as ivv^er shoo can 
 get at Sundays, an at class-meetin it week-neets. 
 An wot seems queerest, shoo's smittled oud Dicka, 
 her fath'er-e-law, an set'n him agate a prajdn anole. 
 O shud as sooin a thowt a oud Nickabore prayin as 
 him, becos he awlis yus't to say so much agean 
 em ; an o do'nt think at he wer ivver e o'ther chetch 
 or chapel in his loif, withaht it wer at chrissnins or 
 berrins, till latela ; an nah he'd be no whear else. 
 O do'nt understand these things reitla. 
 
 Sally — Wa, o think thear dus'nt need so much 
 to do abaht it , if abodda does that wot's reit, we'st 
 not be far wrang ; but for mo part, o dooant loik 
 so much pra\dn an shahtin. 
 
 Mally — O think Lydda's to hot to houd long ; 
 shoo mays to much an a thing on it. O think if 
 abodda's honnestish, an sitch loike, thear needs 
 nowt else. But Lvdda's getn her bed, has'nt sha, 
 Dinah ? 
 
 Dinah — Hah, wumman, an getn abaht agean, 
 an a noist consam it wor anole ; thear wornt a sup 
 a nother rum nor gin, nor nowt but a sup a common 
 ale for non on us. O've no nooation a sitch a 
 religion as that ; yo ma sooin be as gud as her we 
 all her prajdn ; shoo's no better nor shoo shud be. 
 O've heeard a good bit abaht her a latela ; an be- 
 soide, o sent to boiTow a shillin on her t' last week.
 
 120 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 an shoo pei tended shoo hadnt one to lend. It - 
 noist rehgion, that, is'nt it ? it's noist luvvin her 
 nabur as shoo luvs her sen, isnt it, think ya f 
 Shoo's nobbut rehdjus for't looaves and fishes, 
 not shoo, marra. An o'l tell ya anuther thing 
 abaht her ; if shoo vvaint sware, shoo'l loi as fast as 
 a horse can gallop ; an shoo'l drink anole when 
 shoo can get it sloily, nioind that ; an o ray t her 
 think shoo's no honnister nor't rest on us. Shoo's 
 a foine scooar on wit Scotchman, o kno shoo has, 
 becos Betta Longtung, mo sister-e-law, teld me all 
 abaht it ; shoo's nowt but a 
 
 All — Houd, houd, Dinah, shoo's cummin. 
 
 Ltd I A LovEGOOD — Preya, Dolla, will ya help 
 me in we this basket ? it's rayther to much for me. 
 
 Dinah — A, Lydda, o'm glad to see ya abaht 
 agean ; dun ya feel pratta staht, think ya ? an 
 hah'st lad, bless it ; it'st mooast loik it father a onna 
 yo han. O'm glad to see ya look sa week O'l 
 carry yer basket, Lydda, for o'm shure yore not 
 able ; o wunder at ya troin ; yore to ventursom, 
 wumman, yo'l be gettin coud : whoy did'nt ya put 
 yer cloth shawl on, an yuv clogs ? Yo kno'n second 
 bahts is war nor't furst, a gud deeal. Bless ya, tak 
 care a yer sen. Hah's yer brest heeads, Lydda ? 
 But o'l tak't basket in. (Exit Dinah and Lydia.) 
 
 Sally — Wot a two-faced crater youd is ! o \^-ish 
 Lydda kno'd hah shoo's been blackinher. 
 
 Dolly — Hah, wumman, Dinah's vaiTa mallis- 
 ful ; its all becos shoo wod'nt lend lier't shillin : an 
 shoos a tung to desave the d — 1 his sen. — But 
 here's Betta Longtung cummin ommast brussen ; 
 here's summut matter j o'm shooar.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 121 
 
 Betty Loxgtuxg — A, Dolla ! a DoUa ! Salla 
 Smooker's deead ! 
 
 Mally — Bless me, Betta, wot dun ya say ! o 
 seed her it street nobbut yesterda, gooiii for sum 
 bacca ; but that says nowt, O hooap shoos better 
 oif ; shoos had her share a trubble e this world. 
 Its varra suddin too. 
 
 Dolly — Poor crater, hevveii rest her soul ! 
 shoo wer a gud nabur, an as honest as days is long. 
 But o believe Jonna's kild her ; for o heeard em say 
 at mangle at he nockt her dahn last Setterda neet, 
 becos shood smookt six ahnce a bacca last week. 
 
 Sally — A that oud rascald ! o wish o had him, 
 o'd cramt disclaht dahn his throit sum neet, for he 
 awlis sleeps we his mahth woide oppen. 
 
 jMally — An if shoo did smook six ahnce a 
 bacca, wots that for a wumman at " gees suck ?" 
 {shouts) Nah, Ruth, hesta heeard at Salla Smook- 
 er's deead this monin ? 
 
 Ruth Ruxagate — Nou, Malla, o'm not varra 
 loikla, its not ten minnits sin o seed her thro't 
 rowlm pin at Jonna's heead ; sooa o think shoo's 
 no'ther deead nor fit to dee just yit. 
 
 Betty — Wa, its a rare good job; it v»'er Jinna 
 Houdnowt at tell'd me ; but o avver o'l gooau see 
 enah. 
 
 Sally — A, Dolla, o seed Palla Paynowt yisterda 
 at a chrissnin, we a foine silk gahn on, an sitch a 
 bonnet, abaht soize an a cockle-shell, just stuck at 
 top on her heead ; shoo did look sitch a cratur ! 
 all't street wer up to look at her -kno'nt hah 
 shoo gets all her foine clooas. 
 
 Betty — Abber o can tell ya.
 
 122 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Sally — Wa, o sliud loik to kno vastla ; o cahiit 
 get em, an o've as much cummin in as shoo has, 
 an rather mooar, an o hav'nt so menna mahths to 
 fill ; its rayther odd. 
 
 Betty — There's nowt odd abaht it, not thear, 
 marra ; shoo gets em at Scotchman, an shoo ne'er 
 pays nowt whoile they put her it cooart, an then 
 shoo'l happen payt furst toime, an in abaht six or 
 eight munths he gooas tot cooart to draw his brass, 
 but he foinds shoo's paid nowt in : he orders a 
 warrand aht, an that al happen be six munths afooar 
 shoo gets it sarved on her : wa then shoo gooas tot 
 Scotchman, an tells liim at if he waint tak it be a 
 shillin a week, when shoo's paid texpence at warrand, 
 at Billa shall gooa tot jail. T'Scotchman thinks 
 he'd better have it that way iTor thro mooar after 
 it, an sooa shoo gees him a nooat to pay it be a 
 shillin a week, an shoo'l happen j)ay wonce or twice 
 an then shoo'l tell him he may put her it cooart 
 ageean if he loiks, for shoo knose it al be eight or 
 ten munths befooar he can cum on her ageean. 
 Wa then, he sarves a warrand for bodda or guds, 
 an away shoo gooas to anuther Scotchman, an gets 
 anuther lot, an sells em, or i>awiis em, an then 
 pays off. 
 
 Sally — Wa, anhah dust last chap get his brass? 
 
 Betty — Whoy, just same ast furst did, an shoo 
 carries on a that way all along. 
 
 Mally — O wunder at Billa stans it. 
 
 Betty — A bless ya, shoos't mester; Billa 
 durs'nt say a word to her ; shoo'd pull his ears as 
 long as his lether appron if he wer to meddle, or 
 say hofe a word.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 123 
 
 Dolly — Betty, did ya obsarve wot a black eye 
 Ruth Runagate had ? O wunder hah shoe's getn 
 it. 
 
 Betty — Whoy, their George geed it her : 
 shoo'd been runnin abaht ommast all't afteniooin 
 one day, an in her huny to get his drinkin off, 
 shoo forget to put sugar intot tay ; sooa when he 
 cum hooam at neet he inumpt her. 
 
 IVIally — Wot, for that bit! whoy, o wonce 
 kno'd Milla Mucky thorn send Job's drinkin it 
 gi-eeas pot, an he near sed a word abaht it, nobbut 
 he sed he thowt it tasted jDlaguy naushus. 
 
 Dolly — O think yore nabur Kitty Crafta,has'nt 
 had na fits latela, has sha ? 
 
 Mally — Nou, mo lass, Jonna Shai'p cured 
 her a fits ; shoo'l near ha na mooar, not shoo, 
 marra. 
 
 Dolly — Jonna Sharp ? Whoy, wot's he kno 
 abaht fits ? Hah did he do ? He's a rare doctor 
 if he can cure fits. 
 
 Mally — Whoy, o'l tell ya. Yo seen, one day 
 Jooasa wanted sum munna for summut, an shoo 
 thro'd her sen into a fit directla, an thear shoo laid 
 sprottlin uppat hahce floor an Jonna Shar]3 
 happen 'd to gooa in, an Jooasa teld him all abaht 
 it, an he sed, O'l be bun to cure her, if yo'l let 
 me troi. O'd ge owt if ya cud, sed Jooasa ; yo'st 
 troi, an welcum. Wa then, sed Jonna, fetch me 
 a buckitful a watter, witta Jack. Sooa Jack fetcht 
 watter, an Jonna took it an thro'd it all on to her 
 as shoo laid uppat floor, whoil shoo wer just loik 
 a drahnded ratten ; an sooa in a bit shoo cum 
 abaht. O avver in abaht a fortnit shoo had anuther:
 
 124 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 sooa Jooasa seel to Jack, Thali mun fetch a buckit 
 a watter. Jack ; it brings her abaht soonist of owt. 
 Sooa away went Jack fort watter, but befooar he 
 get back shoo wer as weel as ivver, an shoos ne'er 
 iied one sin. 
 
 Dolly — A wot a crater shoo is ! wunder 
 shoo isn't afeard a bein struckn deead ; but shoo'l 
 ha no mooar, if that'st way they sarven her. 
 
 Nanny — A, DoHy, o've just unbethovvt me ; 
 yore Sal's made a noist job on't; last neet shoo'd 
 loiken'd a set'nt hahce a foir ; shoo's made pratta 
 wark 'wit floor carpits ; o wunder hah shoo did not 
 to set bed a foir. 
 
 Dolly — Whoy, wot's shoo been up too nah ? 
 here's summut gi-and gooin off, o reckon. Shoo 
 sartanla is won at idlest yung quaens at ivver rung a 
 dishtlaht. 
 
 Nanny — Whoy, mo lass, t' missis teld her to 
 get twarmin pan, an warmt bed fort mester, becos 
 he's poorly ; an Sal get pan an put foir in, ast 
 missis teld her ; an when shoo get up stairs shoo 
 did'nt kno hah shoo wer to ger it intot bed ; shoo 
 thowt it ad daub t' bed if shoo put black sold bot- 
 tomest, an hah to ger it turn'd o'er shoo did'nt kno. 
 O avver, shoo managed a sum hah, an got it intot 
 bed wit pan lid bottomest ; an when shoo puU'd it 
 aht at bed, alit went all t' cowks ontot corpet, an 
 thear wer sitch a bed an flooar as yo near clapt yer 
 eyes on. An as for Sal, yo ma judge wot sooart'n 
 a mess shoo wer in ; for e scrapin't cowks up, shoo 
 burnt her fingers it stoile. 
 
 Dolly — Wa, ra-lee, o do'nt kno v,-ot's to be 
 dun we her ; it's not so long sin't missis made sum
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 12.5 
 
 at noisiest custards at ivver wer seen, an shoo hap- 
 pen 'd to tell Sal to put a bit a pep])er ontot top on 
 em, an ift soft an did'nt gooan put keen pepper in 
 em all, an spoilt em ivvera won ; sooa o expect 
 shoo'l turn her away nah. 
 
 Nanny — Nay, nay; Sal says shoo nobbut lafft 
 when shoo teld her. 
 
 BETTY-^Dnn ya kno hah Jhnia Sniooker's 
 choild is, Nanna ? 
 
 Nanny — Whoy, mo lass, it's siimmiit better nor 
 it wor. 
 
 Dolly — Wot's been't matter we it ? O near 
 kiio'd it ail'd owt. 
 
 Nanny — A, bless yer soul, wumnian, it wer as 
 near beein bmnt to deeath as mays na matter. 
 
 Dolly — Whoy, yo do'nt say sooa, dun j-a ? 
 Preya, mo lass, hah did it happen ? 
 
 Nanny — Vv'^a, wianman, shoo v.eiit aht to smook 
 her poip, an left choild iippat flooai' it care a little 
 Bil, an Bil ran aht to play him, as childer will do, 
 yo kno'n, an't choild get'tot assnook, (an shoo near 
 has na fender dahn, yo kno'n), an it's thowt at sum 
 hot cowks roli'd on to it frock, an set it afoir. But 
 o avver, as luck ad have it, thear wer a man just 
 gooin past at toime, an heeard it screeamin aht, an 
 intot hahce he run, an lapt a seek rahnd it, an 
 smother 'd blaze aht. 
 
 Dolly — A, wot a mai'cy ! A, if it ad a been 
 bont to deeath, o shud near a forgeen me sen, if o'd 
 a been her. Malla, preya reik me them oud stock- 
 ii]s oflat uwen door, an let's see if they'r worth 
 mendin. 
 
 Malla — O'd ne'er mend em, not o,marra ; yo'l
 
 136 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 use as much wusset o'er em as ad fooit a ])air ; o 
 ne'er mend non, not o, marra. — A, is that tweh'e 
 o'clock at's struck ? if it is, o mun be off, for o've 
 set'nt watter on for't broth, an nivver put'nt meit in. 
 (Dolly's husband C07nes in to his dinner, and they 
 all cut.) 
 
 Husband — Wot, is'nt dinner redda yit ? 0*1 
 tell the wot, o'l clear t hoil a yond set when o catch 
 em in agean. Here yo'n been spendin all't forenoon 
 e smookm an lyin an backbitin fooaks, an nah o've 
 to wait a me dinner gettin reddy. Thah mun alter, 
 Dolly, or we'st not toke as won. 
 
 Dolly — \Va, mo lad, it's nooa yuse tokin ; o 
 cahnt do no mooar nor e can. Wot can won pair 
 a hands do, prethe, whear thear's a young choild to 
 nurse ? O hav'nt strength for it, sooa it's nooa 
 yuse. An as for Malla an them, they had'nt been 
 in aboon foive minnits, sooa thah need'nt say nowt 
 abaht them ; if thah'd moiud llie awn wark, thah'd 
 look as weel, o think, an not cum hooam to black 
 me, when o'm dooin't best e can.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE GOSSIPS. 
 
 DINAH DUBBLETUNG'S TAY DRINKIN. 
 
 Scene — Sammy Duhhletung's parlour. Three 
 old If omen with their feet on the fender, and 
 their chins on a l^velicith the kettle spout. 
 Enter Sally Slutterdish. 
 
 Dinah Dubbletung — Nali, Salla, hah ahr ya 
 wummau ? cum yer way foiTad ; here's Betta an 
 Malla smookin ther poips, an Doha an them al be 
 here en ah. Its Fassen Tuesday, yo knone; we're 
 loik to keep it up. Lig yer shuggar an tay uppat 
 shelf whear Mally's is ; yo'ne getn sum fat-caie, 
 see. 
 
 Mally Mendnowt — O think there's a plag-uy 
 gret nois it street, is'nt ther, Salla ? 
 
 Sally Slutterdish — A bless yer soul, there's 
 been sitch a malak as yo near seed e yer loif. 
 
 Mally — Then it's a rattler, o'l uphoud the;
 
 128 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 for o've seen meiiny a won, an's been e nienny 
 aiiiither. 
 
 Sally — Webbur yo'd a split ten yer sen ommast 
 ifyo'd seen em. There vver Sal Scratchem, an 
 Bess Bluster, an Luce Luggem, an Nance Nip- 
 keen, an Mogga Mnmpem, an oud Dame Kick- 
 shin's dowter ; they'd getn Muck Jooa dahn it sink 
 hoil, an they did pepper his hoid, as it ovvt to be. 
 Moi stars, yo cud'nt tell wot he wer made on, for 
 muck an blood. 
 
 Betty Loxgtung — Wot'shebeen up too, made 
 em sarve him aht that way ? 
 
 Sally — Vv^ioy, mo lass, he's gata two looad a 
 muck away, an he waint pay em ; sooa they sed at 
 hah they'd have it aht an his booans. 
 
 Dinah — An sarve him reit ; becos o kno they'd 
 depended uppat muck brass for a good fuddle to day. 
 — O avver, here's Dolla, an Ruth, an Palla, an 
 Milla Muckythom all togetiier. Cum, mo lasses, 
 sitya dahn, if yo can foind owt to sit on. 
 
 Mally — O say, Palla, yo lookn rather rakish ; 
 wor ya up late last neet ? 
 
 Pally Paynowt — Hah, wumman we went tot 
 play, ahr chap an me ; he popt his watch, an bowt 
 us two tickets ; but yo mo'nt say nowt. 
 
 Dinah — Pooh! that's nowt; o've knone Till 
 Ward selt bred to gooa tot play we afooar nah ; an 
 o've getn a stooan a flahwer a strap an seld itmesen 
 to gooa tot play we ; an wot's onnabodda to doo we 
 that P 
 
 Dolly Doolittle — An o kno'd a wumman e 
 ahr oud naburhood wot popt all her smoothin-hoions
 
 THE SHEFFIFXD DIALECT. 129 
 
 to gooa we; but for me sen, o'd rather a popt em 
 for smn sap. 
 
 DiXAH — O'm vaiTa glad to see us all together 
 agean, mo lasses, an o shud be gladder if we cud 
 raise a sup a brahn cream to us tay. Wot thinkn 
 ya ? we're all on us a set a hard-workin wimmin ; 
 an o think at a toime loik this its nowt but reit at 
 we shud hav a sup a summut at's gud ; yo knone we 
 do'nt gooa tot ale hahce to enjoy us sens, asi men 
 does ; we're smothered up it hoil throo mornin to. 
 neet, an hardlaivver gooas twenty yards throo us awn 
 dooar stooan, nobbut when we gooan tot pop shop. 
 Wotn ya say ? o cud loik sum. 
 
 Dolly — An sooa shud o, Dinah ; it's a rare 
 whoile sin o tasted rum ; o think o hav'nt had 
 aboon a point sin't last liggin in. 
 
 Sally — That's just to mo loikin ; hah much al 
 doo, think ya ? 
 
 Betty — Abaht a quart, o shud think; let's have 
 a good fuddle for wonce ; alir Bil's at alehass. 
 
 Nanny Frumper — An sooa is ahr Dick. Pot- 
 ter aht yer brass then, an Ruth shall fetch it. 
 
 MiLLA MucKYTHOM — They tuk ahr's tot jail 
 this mornin, yo kno'n ; o'm reit enuff; we'st have 
 non a his noise to neet. 
 
 Dolly — Marra, lass, but o have non, t' next 
 thowt ; an o kno Dinah an Salla has'nt, becos o 
 wanted to borrow sum to pay t' hoiways we, an they 
 had non, no'ther on em. 
 
 Mally — Webbut, mo lasses, we'l not be fast, o'l 
 pop are Jonna's Sunday clooas furst. Cum the 
 way, Ruth, an bring a bottle we the. (Exit Ruth 
 and Mally.) 
 K
 
 130 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Betty — T' oiid lass is rare gam, is'nt sha ? 
 
 Dolly — Shoo is ; bur o wud'nt have Joniia to 
 kno for a troifle ; he'd mak t' oud lass sing small if 
 he fomds her aht ; he's sitcli a savage oud Turk. 
 O kno he wonce loiken'd to brokken her ribs for 
 nobbut just gerrin a bit fresh. 
 
 Sally — O Jonna al near kno, not he ; we can 
 all pay us shares a Setterda neet, an oud Mally can 
 fetch em dahnt spaht agean, an J onna al near be't 
 woiser. An besoid, as Dinah says, whoy calmt we 
 
 enjoy us sens as weel ast Ello, here's Malla 
 
 cummin back ! wot's up, o wunder ^ {Enter Ruth 
 and Mally.) 
 
 Mally — O've saved me sen t' trubble a poppin 
 Jonna's clooas ; o just unbethowt meo'd tmilk brass 
 e me pocket for two munth's milk ; sooa o'l ge 
 Ruth that : sooa they ma wait anuther week an be 
 hang'd to em. 
 
 Dinah — Better an better : well dun Mally. 
 
 Betty — O do'nt think it is ; for o heeard t' 
 milkman say this momin,atif Mally did'nt pay him 
 to morn, at he wud'nt let her hev na mooar milk ; 
 8J1 then Jonna ad foind at thear wer summat 
 wrang. 
 
 Mally — Weel thovvt on, Betta, lass. Cum, 
 Ruth, thah'st tak his black coit; brinkt bottle we 
 the ; an thah mun get fore shillin on it, and then 
 brinkt rum, thah knose. {Exit Ruth an Mally.) 
 
 Sally — O say, fooaks, han ya heeard owt a that 
 book at summadis made abaht us when we wer at 
 Dolla's that monin ? 
 
 Betty — Hah mo lass, o've seen it an it'st 
 mooast abominablest lois in at e'er o seed e all me
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 131 
 
 loife. Its scandillas hali it gooas on abalit Delia's 
 furniter : it says't sinkston's awlis full a pots an 
 plates uuweslit ; an at hah't fender's awlis as rusta 
 as oud horse shoes ; an at shoos two candlesticks 
 stans uppat cornish we as mucli greeas uppat soids 
 as ad gveeast shoes for a niunth : but that's not 
 hofe, mo lass ; he owt tuhhe ashamed on his sen. 
 
 Dolly' — Wa yo all knone that's a loi, hecos we 
 han hut won plate an a oud crackt dish ; an as for 
 sayint fender's rusta, whoy that's all spoite, hecos 
 yo all knone we ha'nt won at all ; an as for havvin 
 two candlesticks uppat comish, that's as big a loi 
 ast tuther : for we'n nobbut won, an it awlis stans 
 uppat celler heead ; sooa it's summada wot bares 
 us mallis, yore shure. Dun ya kno owt abaht him 
 wots dun it ? 
 
 Dinah — Nou mo lass; o've seen it, but o cahnt 
 mak it aht whooa it is ; o wish o cud ; o'd pull his 
 ears whoil they wer as long as throo here to 
 Rotherham. 
 
 Dolly — An sarve him reit anole; o wish all 
 his hair ma cum oif. 
 
 Sally — Hah, an if he wor here, o'd pull it oS — 
 But here's Malla. say, Malla, dun yo kno owt 
 abaht that chap wot's written a book abaht us ? 
 
 Mally — Xou, mo lass, but he's nooa wumman's 
 frend, or he'd ne'er toke a that way. 
 
 MiLLY — O sup])ooas he says at o sent mo 
 husband's drinkin it greeaspot; an if o did, wot's 
 that to him, a chump ? a bit a greeas ad ne'er 
 hurt him. 
 
 Betty — O cud loik just to ha me will on hhn 
 if o cud ; o wod'nt leave as much flesh on his face 
 as ad bate a mahce-trap e ten minnits.
 
 i:j2 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Polly — O understand he's sed a giid deeal 
 abalit me ; but if o nobbut can get to kno whooa 
 Jig u, o'l ring sitch a peal e his ears as shall mak 
 ivvera hair on his heead stan as streit as a May- 
 powl, o will mo lasses. O'l Cooartliim, an Scotch- 
 man him anole. But here's Ruth wit rum ; cum 
 lasses, ne'er heed him ; we'll have a gud bio aht 
 to-neet. 
 
 Dinah — Put sum tay it pot, an get yer bread 
 butter 'd, them wot has onna ; ivvera won awn }'er 
 shuggar. Mall?, mo lass, yo can dubble't chair 
 dahn, an let Betta sit we ya at tuther end ; shoo's 
 t' hevvist, yo knone, an sooa then shoo'l keep ya 
 up ; o'l sit uppat creddle heead ; an Salla, do yo 
 pull toud maidnin tub tot table, an put that piece a 
 booard o'er it, an that al houd two on ya ; an 
 Milla an Polla can mak shift uppat sinkston. Dolla, 
 yo'st wait, an let's have a gud stiff cup't furst. 
 
 Dolly — Lend's houd a yer tay then ; hah much 
 munna put in ? o reckon o mun mak it gud ; dun 
 ya loik it masht furst ? 
 
 Mally — O caren't whether its masht or not, 
 nobbut look sharp an let's have sum. 
 
 Dolly — Get yer shuggar into yer cups. 
 
 Dinah — Let's put Yif.ni in furst. 
 
 Mally — Hah, lass, doo, an hofe fill em. Betta, 
 stufi" sum shuggar e that lad's mahth, an stop his 
 noise ; o wish thear wor no childer. 
 
 Betty — Wa, wumman, it's varra toirsom, o kno; 
 but wot can abodda doo ? we ban em, an we're loike 
 to mak us best on em. He 's gettin his teeth, wumman 
 mays him so cross. (Just nah, here's a knock at 
 door ; Dinah oppens it, an a little lass cums in.)
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 1*3 
 
 Lass — ]Mulher, yore to cum hooam directla ; 
 t' ScotcliDian's cum'd, an he wants sum munna. 
 
 Betty — Giith-e way liooam, an lell him o've 
 nowt for him this week. 
 
 Lass — Abber he says he will have summut ; he 
 says it's aboou a munth sm yo geed him owt^ an yo 
 kno me father ged ya a shillin t'last week for him, 
 an yo near geed it him, an he says if ya dooant 
 pay him summat, he'l send me father tot jail. 
 Preya doo cum hooam, muther. 
 
 Mally — Cum the way here, lass. (Mally whis- 
 pers) Gooan tell him thah cahnt foind her, an o'l 
 gee .the a hopena. 
 
 Betty — Set off we the ; if he does send him tot 
 jail, it al not be't furst toime he's been there. 
 
 Dinah — If its nobbut a munlh sin yo paid him, 
 he need'nt to mak so much to doo abaht it. O'd 
 raise allt sti'eet abaht his eai's, if it wer me. 
 
 jVIally — Theyre vast reddy to thro't jail e yer 
 face, nah traded so gud. Let him sue the, lass, 
 thah'l not hev to pay nowt just yit. 
 
 Ruth — Tak no nooatis on him. Dolla, teem't 
 tay aht, lass. 
 
 Sally — Itdus'nt pahwerweel; bloitspaht, Dolla. 
 
 Dixah — A, mo goodness! but we're a cup an 
 saucer short. 
 
 MiLLY — Let me ha moine in a basin. Wot's it 
 meean ? it al houd sooa much mooar. 
 
 Dolly — O think thear is'nt spooins anew. 
 
 Dinah — There's two an a piece a one ; yo mun 
 kalo : but we'n a wudden an sumwhere. 
 
 ?*Ially — O, near moind, its hofe ont rum ; stur 
 it rahnd we yer finger, its non so hot.
 
 134 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Betty — O shud'nt loik yore Samma to cum just 
 nah; he'd kick up a rumpus if he did. 
 
 Dinah — He'll cum non, not he, lass; hell be 
 fooast to work allt neet to neet. This is proime 
 stuff, lasses, is'nt it ? Betty, geet little an a sup ; 
 it al mak him sleep wumman. 
 
 Dolly — An are's is gon aht at tahn, it albe late 
 or he gets hooam ; t' neet's us awn. 
 
 Dinah — O, its rare rum, Ruth ; where did ta 
 get it at ? 
 
 Ruth — O get it at t' Madman's Arms ; it'st next 
 ale-hass tot Woife's Woe, at bottom at Heart-brok- 
 ken Lane. 
 
 Pally — Abbut thah shud a gon tot Blue Ruin ; 
 they keep'nt strongest rum. 
 
 Mally — Abbut theyn a sup a gud gin at 
 Beggar 'd Choild, just bit Sot's Corner, thah 
 kno'se. 
 
 Ruth — Abbut it ca'nt be better nor this, o'm 
 shure, becost landleddy geed me a glass, an o 
 happen 'd to slap a sup uj^pa me appron, an its burnt 
 a lioil throo, its so strong ; an if o had'nt a getn a 
 sup a watter, to it, o beleeve it ad a burnt me mahth 
 aht. 
 
 Mally — Cum, lass, o've dun; let's hev sum 
 mooai'. 
 
 Dolly — Put yer creeam in, mo lasses. {Dolla 
 teems aht.) 
 
 Dinah — It al not houd aht, Doha; yo'd better 
 put a sup mooar watter in, an fill t' cups up, an 
 then put sum mooar tay in ; yo can put it in 
 we yer fingers, wumman, they wer made afooar
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 1.3o 
 
 spooins, [DoHa fHIs up, an ivhoil shoos puttinf toy 
 intot pot,*Dhiah puts Slim mooarrum eDollas cup\ 
 
 Naxny — Mak haste we yer spooin, Betta. 
 
 Betty — O sha'nt, o'vt choild to feed hevrent e P 
 Yo ma ger a fork an stur it rahiid we that. O say 
 Salla, let's taste a yore fat cake. 
 
 Sally — Hah, tiibbe shooar, mo lass, tak wot ya 
 loikn, yore awlis welcome to owt o have. 
 
 Pally — Theyre gerriii shuggar to a pratta proice, 
 a bodda cant ger a bit at sevenpence a pahnd but 
 its't culler a wheelswarf. 
 
 Mally — Hah, its awlis t' poor fooaks wot stans 
 in for it. Hah dun ya loik yer tay, Dolla ? 
 
 Dolly — It's wai'm it mahth, Malla ; it maks 
 me feel queerish e me noddle, o think. 
 
 Sally — Wot benah ! yo are a poor cratur, cahnt 
 Stan that sup ; yo mo'nt dee nesh, wumman ; teem 
 aht agean. 
 
 Dolly — Put yer creeam in, mo lasses, an o'l 
 troi. (Dolla fills tip agean, an after another 
 rahnd or two, an sum toke at's not worth 
 nooatis, Dolla begins to look summat commickle 
 ahaht t'oies.'] 
 
 Dinah — Cum, Dolla, mo lass, fill agean; o 
 think thear'l be anuther rahnd ; o'm neai' within a cup 
 a this sooart ; o feel raythermazy mesen, but let's 
 finish it. 
 
 Dolly — Sloik we will, we owt to have a sup nah 
 an then, to keep us sperrits up, yo kno'n. 
 
 [Dolly gets houd at tay pot, but her vision 
 had sooa multiplied at shoo seed dubble ; sooa shoo 
 laid houd at spaht e steead at handle, an iiftin it 
 o'er eita's heead not vaiTa steddy, a sup a watter
 
 136 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 dropt aht at spaht onto Betty's neck; up shoo 
 juD)pt offat end at cbair,^an dahn gooas oud Malla 
 backards, an kick'st table o'er we ber feet. Dolla 
 screearas abt murder, an nocks tay-pot soide aht 
 agean't uvven door, in ber hurry to set it dahn ; 
 8alla floies to help IMalla up, an dahn tumbles 
 Ruth intot tub. Betta begins to black Dolla, an 
 tells her shoo cud'nt see t' tay-pot handle ; Dolla 
 saj^s shoo seed two. Here's a pratta sample a gos- 
 sipin ; a varra noist pictur it ad mak : — table tip- 
 pled ore, t'hahce flooar cuvverd ore we brokken cups 
 an saucers ; a oud wumman laid sprottlin uppat 
 flooar we booath her elbers brokken, anuther rubbin 
 her neck we sooap to takt foire aht ; two on em 
 pullin won aht at maidnin tub, but cahnt get her 
 aht for laffin, anuther getherint pots up, Dinah 
 settint table ant chair up ageean. Wa then, they'd 
 hardla getn all't things aht at gate, an ther sens 
 set dahn to get sum bacca, when a lad cums 
 tot dooar.] 
 
 Lad — If yo please, is Malla Mendnowt here ? 
 
 Mally — Hah lad, whooa wants ma ? 
 
 Lad — Whoy yore Joinia's cuni'd hooam, an he 
 wants to kno where yo'n putn his coit, he's balm 
 tot club. 
 
 Mally — A, wot ivver mun e do ! he'll murder 
 me, sure enuff, if he foinds me aht. 
 
 Nanny — We'st beloik to foind sum brass sum- 
 where, an fetch it back, or o'm shure he'l kill ber. 
 
 Pally — Tell't lad to tell him it's it box lockt 
 up, an at hah yo'n lost key. 
 
 Mally — Abbut o left box hd oppen, an if it wor 
 locl^t, he'd breik it oppen in a minnit.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT., 137 
 
 DixAH — Webbut yo knone, Billa Fretful's been 
 berrint woife this aftenioon ; send him word yo'n 
 lent it him, an at they'r gone to Rotherham ; 
 they'r oud cronies, yo knone. 
 
 Mally — That al do o'm shm-e ; an o'l gooa me 
 sen. {Exit Malla.) 
 
 Betty — Two heeads is better nor won, if they 
 be but sheep heeads. But o say, ]Milia, yo wer 
 gooin to tell us abaht yore Job ; he cum hooam 
 drunk t'last neet, did'nt he ? 
 
 jNIilly — Hah, he did, an he wod mak me get 
 him sum beef stakes an froi em ; an whoil o wer 
 froin em, he fell fast asleep. Think 's o, o'l rig the 
 for wonce, oud lad ; sooa o ate v,ot o loik't on em, 
 an set rest away ; nobbut o dipt me lingers it fat, 
 an rubb'd his lips we it; an directla he wakken'd ; 
 o want me supper, says he ; thah's had the supper, 
 says ; nabbiU o hev'nt, says he ; yebbut thah has, 
 says o, feel if the lips is'nt greeasy ; thah's forget- 
 ten, mun. Sooa he felt. AVa, says he, o thowt o 
 had'nt had me supper; but o feel hungry yit. 
 
 Betty — Wot a fiat ! 
 
 MiLLY — Hah, an we're all flats when we're 
 drunk ! 
 
 (Are reporter says at rjossips got sum ale an a 
 Jiddler, an icer drinkiri an donsin till after mid- 
 neet ; hut ivot he saw an heeard mo'tit be teld 
 just nah.)
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 
 
 THE GOSSIPS. 
 
 JONNA DOOLITTLE'S FORTIN. 
 
 Scene — Jonna Doolittles hahce. Dolly, in a 
 foine silk hag-sleeved gahn, an a cap we 
 four or foive bows a rihbin in it, sivimmin a 
 stack a muffins an poiklets we butter. Six 
 or seven gossips ive poips e ther cheeks, Jixt 
 rahnd a bran spankin moggana [table, we 
 a dashin tray full a silver-edged cheena, an 
 a cupple a bottles a rum it middle at tray. 
 
 Nanny Frumper — Wot's yoiid fella shahtin 
 at, o wunder ? 
 
 Sally Slutterdish — He's croin pajDers sum- 
 mat abaht a robbera an a mm'der. 
 
 Mally Mendnowt — Ralee, there 'snooa stumn 
 aht at neets nab days ; whoy, oVe beeard say at 
 there wer a wmnman stopt a Setterdabe'tDeep C uttin, 
 we a set a villans.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 139 
 
 Dolly Doolittle — We're nivver safe e these 
 gret tahns, o'l be hang'd if we are : o've heeard say 
 at tliey robb'd her a three an noinpence. 
 
 Nansy V/eedle — Nowt at sooat, bless yer 
 loif, mo lass ; it wer won palmd three an noinpence : 
 for heeard say sooa me sen, an them wot teld me 
 lives at Attercliffe. 
 
 Sally — Webhut mo lass, ahr Jack's sister's 
 husband's brother works at Blast Furnish an o 
 heeard him say at they used her scandillus, an at 
 they took her market basket, besoide all her 
 munna. 
 
 Betty Loxgtung — They just did abuse her, 
 aboon a bit ; for we'd Billa Rattlejaw e ahr hahce 
 yisterday afternoon, an o heeard him say at they 
 took ivvera rag a clooas offen her back, an broke 
 her arm it scuffle. 
 
 Nanny' — An o beleeve that's true ; for there 
 wer sum fooaks heeard her screeam aht murder ; an 
 o heeard say at they had miu-der'd her anole. 
 
 KiTTA Covetous — Wa then, that maks wot o 
 heeard say true ; for o wer teld at her bonnet wer 
 fun uppat Canel bank a Sun da monin ; sooa they 
 murder 'd poor wumman furst, an then drahnded her, 
 depend on't. 
 
 Dinah Dubbletung — A, that poor crater! 
 heaven rest her poor soul, an may her ghost haunt 
 her murderers till they getn fun aht, an a rooap 
 rahnd ther necks ! O heeard say they get her 
 aht at Canel yisterda nooin, an at Crunner's 
 
 bahn to gooa o'er her to-day. Dust kettle 
 
 ommast boil, Dolla ? Cram sum chips mider it, 
 wumman, yo'n plenta.
 
 140 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Mally — O think lass there's a stooan imdert 
 kettle ; get bellusses, lass, an blow it. 
 
 Nansy — Yo do'nt need to mak so much to doo, 
 for o'm shure Missis Doolittle al mak it boil as 
 sooin as ivver shoo can ; o'm shure slioos varra 
 komd. 
 
 Dolly — Preya, Nansa, do'nt call me Missis no 
 mooar ; it's not mo name ; o've been call'd Dolla 
 all these years, an o think it's to late to be chris- 
 sen'd o'er agean nah. Yo'st all be reit afboai- yo 
 gooan hooam, yo may wroite on't. Bring yer chairs 
 tot table. 
 
 Nanny — A, these is noist chairs ; o reckon 
 they'r moggana ; they'r ommast to gud for com- 
 mon yuse. 
 
 Dolly — Webbut we'n none else; ahr Jonna 
 ged a sovrin a piece for em won day when he wor 
 
 hofe drunk kettle boils, o avver. Yo'st have 
 
 a proime dish a tay for wonce ; o've bowt sum sitch 
 tay as o ne'er seed afooar. We'n had menny a 
 fuddle, but this shall be't fuddle a all fuddles. 
 Popt gunpahder in, an ger it masht ; an nah, 
 lasses, weet yer appetoites to a edge. Reich them 
 puffcakes an poiklits ofTat range end, an doo justis 
 too em. We'l have't best tay fiu'st. 
 
 Dinah — Yo'n forgetn't shuggar ant shuggar 
 basin, Dolla. 
 
 Dolly — A, mo lass, o let little Jack have his 
 pomdge in it, an he smasht it ; but o'l put yo't 
 shuggar into this black porringer ; wot's it meon ? 
 
 Mally — Nowt, lass, nowt ; if ta brings it in a 
 panshon, its all reit, if ya get it. (Dolla teems 
 tay aht.)
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DLILECT. 141 
 
 Naxny — Its varra black, Dolla ; yo'ii uot pinclit 
 it a tay at onra rate. 
 
 Dolly — Hah, mo lass, it'st gimpaliclers wot 
 cullers it ; are Sal's missis near drinks nowt else ; 
 an this is't best Dartford. 
 
 Kitty — It smells queer, o uo'nt kno bah it al 
 taste. 
 
 Dolly — It'st Dartford, o tell ya ; yo near had 
 non a that afooar. 
 
 Dinah — O cahnt drink it, o'ni shure ; an o near 
 wor bet afooar ; yo'n n^iade a mistak a sum sooart, 
 for sai'tin ; o do'nt kno v/ot it tases loik. 
 
 Dolly — It'st Dartford, mo lass, wot flavours it. 
 
 jMally — Wa, lass, thah ma tak the Dartford to 
 yore Sal's missis, an let her dart it, for o cahnt ; its 
 a mess for a mad dog. 
 
 Dolly — It's ail owin tot Dartford, o tell ya ; 
 it's luike to be good, for it'st strongest they had; o 
 think they said it wer thribble. 
 
 Sally — Yo'n put'n sum salt peter in tot pot, 
 yore loike ; it's as salt as bi-ack, an oh ! (shaks her 
 keead) it's horrible — naushus ! 
 
 Dolly — Wa, yo may'na strange noise ore it ; if 
 guiipahder is'nt good, it's toirsom. O avver, o'l 
 taste me sen. {Dolly tastes.) Wa, maiTa, if this 
 is ther gunpahder tay, they ma tak it for me ; it's 
 nowt loike tay^ 
 
 Xansy — Wot did it coss ya a nahnce, Dolla ? 
 
 Dolly — ^^■lloy, mo lass, o do'nt kno, becos o 
 paid for all't things together, an o near lookt at it. 
 Yo kno'n o axt for a pahnd at best gunpahder ; an 
 he said. Will ya hare it Dartford ? an o said. Hah, 
 if it's best ; an he said. It's strongest ; an sooa says
 
 142 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 o. That's just wot o want; but he said, Yo mun 
 tell em, they'l not need to put so much in as they 
 doo at tuther ; an o said, Wa, o'st mak it me sen ; 
 an he ged it me reddy lajDt up, an o thowt o seed 
 him laff just then, hut o taid no nooatis yo kno'n ; 
 but when ahr lass put it intot pot to mash, shoo 
 said. It's varra small; an o said, Hah, it's gunpah- 
 der, but still o did'nt look at it. 
 
 Dinah — D artford — D artford — whoy, that'st 
 pahder at ahr Jack gooas a shoo tin we. 
 
 Dolly — Hah, mo lass, he's tain me in this 
 toime ; but bio me if o dooant bio him up when o 
 gooa agean. But near heed, we'n plenty at tuther. 
 {In cums Jonna Doolittle, rather mazy.) 
 
 JoNNA — Nah, mo lasses, yo'l mak yersens cum- 
 fortubble, o hooap ; if ya dooant, it's yer awn fault. 
 O've browt ya a pahnd a srimps ; o kno Malla 
 loikes em. DoUa, mo lass, fetch me a sovrin dahn 
 stairs, witta ? 
 
 DoLLA — Fetch won the sen ; thah kno's whear 
 they are. {Jouna gets wot he icants, an cuts ojf.) 
 
 Dolly — Nah, Malla, here's a spooin, help yer 
 sen to sum srimps. 
 
 [Oud Nanna had just shuvveld a spooinful into 
 her mill, an wer lifting her saucer a \9^' up to swim 
 em dahn her unaccahntable funnel, when't tail of a 
 srimp get intot wrang throit, an shoo geed a coff 
 wot made all't crockera dither agean, an't contents 
 of her saucer wer conducted into Mrs. Wheedle 's 
 face. But O moi stars ! sich a volley a hofe- 
 masticated jumpers wer foir'd acrost table slap agean 
 ther cheeks, loik a shower a grape-shot, at it made 
 em stare loik stuck sheep. " Raich me't tahwel,"
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 143 
 
 says dame VvTieedle, " shoe's ommast drahnded 
 me." " An shoo's liofe fill'd mo cup we her nasty 
 crickets/' says Sally Slutterdish. O avver, in a bit 
 t'oud lass cum abaht, and went at it agean, an 
 things went on pratta square, till they'd finisht 
 abaht seven rahnds apiece, an then't tay things 
 vanisht loik magic, an they wer all sat rahnd t' foire 
 we a poip stuck e ther cheeks, befooar abodda cud 
 split a thowt or crack a will.] 
 
 Dinah — O've heeard em say at if a man's hairy, 
 he's born to be rich. 
 
 DoLi.Y — Wa, an it's true anole, for ahr Jonna's 
 as hairy as a woild man cmmast, an is'nt he rich ? 
 But yo'st gooa up stairs, an o'l sho ya summat at 
 almakyathinkheis. [Away they all gooaiip stairs.) 
 
 Nansy — A dear, a deai- i wot a hansom pair a 
 bedstocks ! 
 
 Dinah — An wot a noist carpet ! 
 
 Sally — But a ! wot a pratta little picter ! an 
 wot noist chimla ornaments ! O reckon that's sum 
 Lord, is'nt it Dolla ? 
 
 Dolly — Bless thee, lass, its ahr Jonna's loikness 
 it cost him a sovrin that did, when he wer drunk. 
 
 Nanny — An wot beautiful chamber chairs ; Hah 
 that's just sich a swing glass as o'd have if o cud 
 affooard it. Dolla, there's sum difference e yore 
 chamber nah throo be wot ther vvor. 
 
 Dolly — Hah, mo lass, we'n worn aboon twenta 
 pahnd in it ; but yo knone we ban plenta. Butluk 
 ya here [oppens a drawer an brings out a bag ive 
 a hunderd sovrins in,) here's shoineis, lasses ! 
 They want us to tak em tot savin bank ; but not 
 sooa ; we'l keep em us sens.
 
 144 TfJE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Dinah — Ariityo afreead a nobboda, robbin ya ? 
 If o bad em o'd bidda em it cbimla, or else it 
 pot boil ; o sbud be scar'd a smumada takkin em 
 abt a tbat drawer. 
 
 Kitty — Them wot ad rob Dolla ad rob 't chm'cb, 
 an o wish at furst thief wot puts ther hand into 
 
 that drawer, at the d 1 may nip ther fingers off 
 
 befooar they tain em aht ageean. 
 
 Nansy — An sooa do o, Kitta lass, but o hooap 
 nobbada al be so brazen'd as to troi, Hah much 
 did yo gee fort bed cuitin's Dolla ? A wot a gi'and 
 harth rug an wesh-hand stand ! A, Dolla ! 
 yore weel ofi' nah, an o kno nobbada "wot's mooar 
 desarvin. {Four or foive gooas dahi.) Yo wer 
 awlis best-natur'd nabur we had ; yo kno'n o wer 
 awlis fond on ya, an o wer awlis ready to help ^^a 
 onna toime. O've wesht yore floor menne a toime, 
 hav'nt o, Dolla, mo lass, an o'l wesh it onna toime, 
 o will. [In a lower voice) — Will ya lend me a 
 sovrin to get ahr Bil's clooas dahnt spalit ? Yo'l 
 near miss it aht a so menna, mo lass, an o'l pay it 
 ya back, mo lass, duly; yo kno'n o'm honest, an o . 
 kno yo awlis loikt to doo a good turn if ya cud ; 
 o'st be varra thankful if yo will, mo lass. 
 
 Dolly — Wa, wa, o'l lend ya won, but yo mo'nt 
 say nowt tot tuther. (Dolla raiches t' bag aht at 
 drawer, an lends Weedle a sovrin, an puts bag it 
 drawer beloiv.) 
 
 Nansy — Nou mo lass, o wod'nt say a word; 
 we'd better be goom dahn, or else they'l be thinkin 
 sunimat. [Goes dahn.) 
 
 Dolly — Nab, lasses, wot al yo have to drink, 
 rum or gin ? we'n plenta a booath ; or will ya
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 14.0 
 
 all have gin pimcli ? O intend ya tubbe meiTa 
 afooar ya gooan hooam to-neet. Wot'st matter we 
 Kitta ? Yo mon't be dahn on't wiimman 
 
 Kitty — O've get'nt pain it stiimmack so bad, o 
 can hardla bear. 
 
 Dolly — Here then, just drink this sup a gin, 
 an gooan lig ya dahn for hofe a nahwer, an o'l 
 povvd ya, yo'l be better. Salla, takt candle an leet 
 her up stairs lass : o'm sorry shoos badla. ( Gooas 
 grunting oert ftooar ommast dubble-foud. Salla 
 leets her iip, an leaves her.) 
 
 [Itwertseet at sovrins at made this covetous 
 wretch badla ; an shoo had'nt been up stairs foive 
 minnits afooar shoo begun a thinkin abaht fingerin 
 em. Shoo'd thrown't bed-clooas offen her, an had 
 getn hofe tway o'ert flooar tot drawers, when her 
 wish at the d — 1 ad nipt f urst thief's fingers oH" wot 
 went into that drawer, flash 't loike leetnin through 
 her covetous soul ; an there shoo stood, in a manner 
 between her inchnation an her conshence, as if 
 shoo wer hesitatin wot to doo. O avver, her luv 
 fort sovrins mester'd her better feelins. Wot a 
 fooil o am, says shoo to hersen, to stan a this way ; 
 there's nowt to hurt me ; an ten or a duzzen al 
 ne'er be mist aht a that lot : an besoide, wot bisniss 
 had shoo to sho em us P it wer nobbut temlin us to steil 
 em ; it al nobbut sarve her reit if o doo talv sum. — 
 Gooas tot drawers we her conshence flashin in her 
 eyes, oppens it gently, (still thinkhi on her wish,) 
 puts her hand tot comer, where shoo seed Dolla 
 tak em throo, thrusts her Angers slap into a mahce- 
 trap ; o^ it went, an e hofe a jiiFey her finger wer 
 as fast as a thief in a mill. Shoo wor shure the d — 1 
 
 L
 
 146 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 had houd on't, an shoo set up one at mooast hor- 
 rable screeams at ivver wer heeard aht a bedlam, 
 an tumbeld backards, scar'd aht on her wits. Up 
 stairs they all run, freeten'd to deeath ommast : 
 iiobbada cud tell wot wert matter ; but they all 
 thowt shoo wor deead. But wot surprised em't 
 mooast wer to see a mahce-trap fast to her fingers. 
 When Dolla came up stairs, shoo seed it anole, 
 but shoo sed nowt. ' Lets get her hooam, lasses,' 
 says Dolla, ' shoo'l be better when shoo gets there; 
 an when ya get back, o'l tell ya summat at al inak 
 ya all stare aboon a bit.' Sooa they get her hooam 
 as weel as they cud, an left her we Nansa Wheedle. 
 Sooa when they'd let'n ther poips, an supt wonce 
 rubnd, Dolla oppen'd sacret.] 
 
 Dolly — Nah, yo knone, when we wer all up 
 stairs, o sho'd ya t' sovrins, an yo all seed me tak 
 em aht at top drawer, an put em in ageean, did'nt 
 ya ? (All says, Hah.) An yo knone Nansa 
 Wheedle an me staid up stairs a bit after yo cum 
 dahn ; an shoo wheedled me aht on a sovrin ; but 
 ne'er heed that. But moind ya, when o put em 
 back, o did'nt put em it same drawer; for o put em 
 it drawer below ; an havvm sooa menna raoice, we 
 awlis keep a mahce-trap it drawer ; an o happen 'd 
 to put it exactla it corner where 't sovrins wor. O 
 do'nt know wot ivver possest me to put it thear ; 
 but it wor tubbe sooa. Sooa yo may depend on't 
 that covetous crater w^er bahn to stall em, an shoo 
 get her finger it trap : an yo ma wroit on't, shoo 
 thowt oud Nick ad oud on her ; for yo knone wot a 
 dreadful wish shoo wisht. 
 
 Mally — It's a judgment on her, mo lass, an 
 nowt else.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 147 
 
 Sally — Honnistis best yit. 
 
 Nanny — Hah, mo lass, an sooa it is. But it's 
 not fiu'st toime, nort second, nort third, at Kitta s 
 been fun aht e sitch nasta tricks. 
 
 Dinah — Nou, mo lass, it is'ut ; an o'l tell ya 
 wot, o non loik Nansa Wheedle ; shoos ta much 
 gi-eeas abaht her for me. 
 
 Dolly — Cum, mo lasses, let's have sumraat to 
 drink ; \ye'st get o'er all this ; an Kitta al nivver 
 cum amang us na mooar, moind if shadoes. 
 
 [ Sooa they sat an smooktan drank till twelve o'clock, 
 (but they said nowt wot's worth telhn,) an it wer as 
 dark as pitch ; an Nanna Frumperwert forst wot went 
 aht ; an summada ad left pump unlockt, an't handle 
 stood streit aht ; an Dame Frumper ran we her nooas 
 hump ageant end on't, an nockt it as crookt as 
 Chesteriield steeple, Wa then, oud Midla wert next 
 wot toddled off: "O'l tak me poip we me, Dolla," 
 says shoo : " Tubbe shooar, mo lass," says Dolla : 
 sooa off shoo sets, braikst poip to a short an, an 
 puts it in her pocket. Shoo had'nt gon far afooar 
 her pocket wer afbir ; an thear shoo wor all on a 
 smook, an just reddy for blazin, when, as luck ad 
 hav it, shoo catcht her foot ageean a stoon, an bein 
 hofe drunk, or summat mooar, shoo tumbled slap 
 into a dyke at sum masons had made it sink ; thear 
 shoo croies aht, " O'l be hanged if o sha'nt be 
 drahnded." O avver, it happen'd at summada wer 
 just cummin past, an wer good emiff to tak her aht 
 a pickle ; an bein a bit sober 'd wit duck, shoo teld 
 em whear shoo liv'd, an they taid her hooam. But 
 wot pleased me't best wer Salla Slutterdish's job : 
 shoo bid em good neet next, an wen shoo'd getn aht
 
 H8 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 intot air, it ommast fell'd her ; shoo cud'iit walk 
 steady for her loife. An just as shoo wer bahn to 
 turnt corner, thear wer a watchman fast asleep 
 within a fooit of her awn door; an he wer just 
 dreeamin at four men were bahn to mump him, 
 when Salla tumbled agean him we a sooat on a run 
 tu}), an dahn they went together, '' Murder ! 
 murder !" croies he, " four to one's nooa match." 
 Aht cums Salla's husband ! "Wot's up ? wot's up?" 
 says he ; " oh, yo'n been nockin mo woif dahn, 
 han ya? ol four to one ya." Sooa he set a 
 wollopint watchman. " O'l lam yo to abuse mo 
 woif uppen her awn door stooan, o will, ya scamp." 
 O avver, he set off loik a lamp-leeter, an for owt o 
 kno, hees gooin yit. But Missis Dubbletung 
 catcht it twarst ; shoo tumbled sum hah or another 
 but shoo cahnt tell hah ; o avver, shoo managed to 
 braik her arm. An sooa that'st fruits a drunken-
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 MISCELLAXEOUS COXVERSATIOXS 
 
 " UP PA AHR HULL ARSTON." 
 KO. I. 
 
 (From the "Annual" and "Fairin," published IS3Q.J 
 
 Jack — O say, Bil, o've getn a letterthroo Joniia 
 Flatstick we a description a iheir wheel. It's a 
 grand place, o'l ashiire the ; nmn e read it the ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, lad, let's have it. 
 
 Jack (reading) — Oud Friend Jack, — O do'iit 
 kno wot day at mimth is — Thursday, o reckon. 
 O thowt o'd just send the two or three loines to tell 
 the a bit a wot ta art. It's abaht six munths sin o 
 left yore wheel, an we'n near seen won anuther sin; 
 bur o can tell the won thing, if o'd two as good legs 
 an feet as thah has, o'd a seen thee long sin. Thah's no 
 thowt for abodda, or else thah'd a call'd at ahr place 
 long afooar nah. We'n a proime wheel, o'l ashure 
 the, we a grand polished steeam engine, sixteen 
 horse ])ahwer, made be Peels an "Williams, Man- 
 chester. At top at yard there's ahr wheel, an it
 
 150 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 center at yard there's a lot a steps wot leads iutot 
 chamber an garret ; o'ert steps we'n a clock. Here's 
 three heavy trows it bottom room wot they gromd 
 table knoives in, an seven leet ans wot they groind 
 razors an penknoives in ; it chamber aboon there's 
 a room we ten trows a penknoife groin ders, fitted 
 up we dust masheens to ivvera trow ; an it garret 
 there's ten trows, all razor groinders, we ivvera 
 thing cum])leat for't wark ; an thah kno's there's 
 mooar variety e ahr trade nor't tuther, an sooa 
 we'nt mooast visitors. Thah'l happen not believe 
 it, but we'n lords, an dukes, an dutclieses, an gen- 
 tlemen an ladies a all sooarts ivvera week cums to 
 see us, an they awlis seem t' best pleeas'd it garret, 
 when they seen sum rahndin backs, sum ore houdin, 
 sum glazin, sum buffin, sum groindin, sum lappin, 
 sum jimpin, an sum polishin; an we all work away, 
 an cares ibr nobbada. Prethe call oud lad, and see 
 all the oud wheel-iellows ; they '1 be pleased to see 
 the, especially oud Cliai'ley. If ta dus'nt, o wish 
 t' next toime thah feighs the trow, thah ma breik 
 all the gallos buttons off. 
 
 JONNA FLATSTICK. 
 
 Jack — Nah oud chap, wot thinks ta abaht that ? 
 O'st gooa an see em sum day. But o want to buy 
 u gud mettle tay-pot : can ta tell ma where o can 
 get a gud an ? 
 
 Bill — Aye, o can ; thah may gooa to Wolsten- 
 holm's it Park, an thah'l get a furst rater there : 
 o've had won a their pots this seven year, an o 
 think its na war nor when it wer new. An if ta 
 wants onna a their Jarman silver spooins, an sitch
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. lol 
 
 loik9, thali'l get sum ])a-oime aiis ; they r just ciiajjs 
 wot kuo's bah to mak em. But o say, Jack, they 
 sen at hah Booany's risen ageeaii. 
 
 Jack — Xay, man; they sen he's ne'er been 
 deead. 
 
 BiL — Abbut o'i not beHeve that; becos o thmk 
 at Booany wer made at same sooart a mettle as 
 they mayn sum wimmin's tuugs on : his ambition 
 wer to restless to lig still sooa long. 
 
 Jack — But thah may dejieud on't, Bil, if onna 
 chap we a gud pluck, an sum millitary skill abaht 
 him, ad cum forrad just nah e France, he'd mak 
 Phillip's cralm dither abaht his heead afooar long. 
 
 Bil — An sarve him reit, a tyrant ! its his a\\ii 
 biingin on, an sooa let him takt consequences. 
 See the. Jack, here's oud Savvage cummin with 
 his big dog. 
 
 Jack — Well, oud lad its all up we yer fancy 
 dog-feightiug nah ; there's a act passed for pre- 
 venting cruelty to animals. Wot thinks ta abaht 
 that, my buck, eh? 
 
 Savage — O they cahnt hinder us, an we'll 
 feit em it spoit o ther teeth ; we can gooa intot 
 woods whoile they're it Chetch. 
 
 Bil — O then thah meeans to breikt laws a 
 booath God an man at wonce, dusta ? Thah't a 
 foine fellow, thah art ! An wot splits me, tiiah 
 pretends to be vaira fond a the dog, an yet thah 
 keeps him for nowt else but to tortur him. Thah 
 can Stan an see his eyes pull'd aht, an his flesh 
 torn off be inches, whoile his yells an screeams in 
 the most indescribable agonies, fills the vaiTa soul 
 wit' unutterable ecstacy; an thah claps him at
 
 152 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 back, an thali shahts " Hev lad, shak him lad, leg 
 him lad, throttle him lad," — prethe wots he done 
 amiss at he's tuhbe massacreed a this way ? Hasta 
 fun it aht at the dog's no feehn ? If ta has, wa 
 then there's two on ya wot has non. An thah 
 says thah loiks him. Good stars, wot wud to do 
 at him if ta hated him ? An thah calls thesen a 
 man o reckon ; fudge, lad, thah't a mixture ; thaht 
 a composition of man, beast, an devil ; nature 
 has 'lit a, name for thee ; thaht a savage of the 
 most ferocious kind. A seet o't mangled limbs a 
 the awn dog, even when writhing it agonies a 
 deeath, nivver moves thee ; an yet thah loikes the 
 dog, eh ? dus'nt ta ? O yore a proime set. 
 
 Jack— O say, Bil o've oflens wimdered wot 
 maks em have organs e Chapels an Churches. 
 
 Bil — Whoy o can tell the wot a chap tell'd me, 
 an o think it sahnds to sense or summat else ; he 
 sed at they wor used to droive Ond Nick away. 
 
 Jack — Wa, if they'l do that they're just things 
 wots wanted ; but hah can organ's droive him 
 away ? 
 
 Bil — Whoy becos he dus'nt loike sacred music. 
 
 Jack — Hah dustakno that? 
 
 Bil — Whoy dus'nt thah kno at Saul wer 
 ti'ubbled we a evil sperit, an as soon as ivver David 
 struck up we a tune uppat haip, he toddled off 
 directla. 
 
 Jack — Aye, aye, but here's nooa organists nah 
 wot can play as David did. But there's been a 
 blo-up, in a orchesler ; hasta heeard on'i ? 
 
 Bil — A blo-up ! whoy, there's awlis a blo-up, 
 when they're all a playing.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 153 
 
 Jack — Abbiit this wer anuther sooart an a bio 
 up. Thab sees, thear wer an oud Frenchman wot 
 placed base, an when he sniifft candle, he awlis put 
 snuH'hitot base, to niak it droi, as he said. An 
 sooa won iieet, when he wer bahn to play a parti- 
 cular piece be his sen, a wag of a musishoner put 
 some pahder intot base. Sooa enah it wer toime 
 for't oud chap to begin, an hesnufft candle, an popt 
 it intot base ; but my stars ! it popt him intot pit, 
 an blew his base into shivereens, an they all stai'cd 
 as if they wer stuck ; an weel they mut. 
 
 BiL — Here's J ooa cummin. Wot's that thah's 
 getn, Jooa ? 
 
 JooA — Whoy,it'st toper's creed; mun e read it 
 the? 
 
 BiL — Hah, just let's see wot he believ^es, o av- 
 ver. (Jooa reads.) 
 
 1 believe e rum, gin, brandy, whiskey, ale, 
 pooarter, an all other drunkable stuff wot can be 
 guzzled. 
 
 1 believe at every Englishman has a reit to get 
 drunk hah he loiks, when he loiks, where he loiks, an 
 we wot he loiks. 
 
 I believe at nobbada's accahntable for wot they 
 dun, when they'n lost ther reason. 
 
 I believe at ivvera drunken man's lost his reason ; 
 sooa ivvera drunken man may do wot i wer his 
 drunken sen pleases, wethaht bein accahntable for 
 it. 
 
 I believe, therefore, at it's reit for a drunken man 
 to insult ivvera bodda he meets, whether be neet or 
 day ; an especially when he meets wimmin, to pull 
 an bawl em abaht just as his drunken brains or 
 his foul inclinations shall dictate.
 
 154 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 I believe at drunkenness is varra useful, becos a 
 fellow can do things when he's drunk at he cahnt 
 for shame to do when he's sober. 
 
 I believe it's reit for a drunkard to sacrifoise all't 
 cumforts ov his woife an family to gratifoy his 
 drunken appetoite. 
 
 I believe it's reit for a drunkard, when he wants 
 mooar ale, an has no munna, to pop or sell onna 
 thing he can get oud on, o'ther on his a\Mi or 
 onnabodda's else's ; becost necessity o't case 
 requires it. 
 
 I believe at it's reit for onna drunkard to mump 
 his woife when ivver shoo gooas tot aleass to seek 
 him. 
 
 I believe it's reit for him to mump her when ivver 
 shoo sits up waitin for him at neet : wot bisniss has 
 shoo to burn candle ? 
 
 I believe it's reit for him to mump her if ivver 
 shoo gooas to bed befooar he cams hooam : wot reit 
 has shoo to gooa to bed withaht him ? 
 
 I believe in the magic of drunkenness ; for if a 
 man cahnt guvern his sen when he's sober, he can 
 guvern a whole nation when he's drunk. 
 
 I believe e black eyes, bloody nooases, cursln an 
 swearin, singin an don sin ; an a riggilar flare up's 
 just wot o loik. 
 
 I believe e parch 'd throits, racking heead akes, 
 droi tungs, flamin eyes, an foiry nooases. 
 
 I believe e rags, debt, an jail. 
 
 I believe e empty pockets, empty cubbords, an 
 empty bellies. 
 
 I believe e starvin childer, heart-brokken wolves, 
 lost friends, an insulted relations.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 155 
 
 JooA — A vaiTa noist creed anole. 
 
 BiL — Hah ; but wot is iher gooin offit relidgious 
 world just Rah? 
 
 JooA — Whoy o've been teld at there's twelve 
 woise men formed ther sens into a committee fort 
 suppression a christiannata e this tahn, an at they'l 
 let onnabodda gooa in fort small charge a one 
 penny, where they'l be accommodated we a stannin 
 seat for two or three hours. 
 
 BiL — O, then they're balm to suppress christi- 
 annata, an mak christians pay for it, eh ? O, they're 
 a benevvolent crew ! twelve on em, is ther ? han 
 they horns on, thinkst ta ? 
 
 JooA — Whether they'n horns on ornooa, o cahnt 
 tell ; buto beleeve at sum on em cumsaht atheeast. 
 
 BiL — An wot's christiannata dun amiss, at it's 
 tubbe crost aht at book a loife ? is it becos it maks 
 men honest ? is it becos it maks drunkards sober ? 
 is it becos it maks whoremongers an adulterers 
 chaste ? is it becos it bilds hospitals, infirmaries, 
 dispensaries, an orphan houses ? is it becos it bilds 
 free schooils an Sunday-schooils, to lam booath 
 oud an yung to read an wroit ? is it becos it 
 maks to menny benevvolent societies ? is it becos 
 christiannata'st fahndation a all gud guvvennent ? 
 is it becos it encourages arts an sciences ? is it 
 becos it's made England t' mistress at world ? at a 
 strooak, — is it becos it maks men happy e this 
 world, an prepares em for happiness it next ? — is 
 it for dooin these things at it's tubbe crusht ? 
 Well, well, if they can bring us owt better, let em 
 crush ii. 
 
 J 00 A — A dear aye, sloik they can ; we're
 
 156 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 to have natiir for a god, an reeason's to worship 
 her. 
 
 BiL — O hah ? we're to have iiatur, are we ? wa, 
 shoos a gud-natur'd oud lass ; — yo may get drunk 
 when ya loik, loi, sware, an feit when ya loik, 
 cheat £ui sheddle when ya loik, have as menny 
 woives as ya loik, kick em aht when ya loik, run a 
 muck when ya loik, be o'ther rooag or fooil when ya 
 loik, cut yer awn throit or onnahodda's else's vdien 
 ya loik, an this good natur'd god al near say wrang 
 yo dun ; an as for reeason worshippin her, w^hoy, 
 reeason worshipt a strumpet, an cut her fath'er's 
 heead off, at French Revolution. 
 
 JooA — But dusta kno wot these penny-a-week 
 philosophers believe ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy o'l tell the won or two things at 
 they believe ; — they believe at its possible to per- 
 swade all't men, wimmin, an childer e Shevvild, at 
 furst joint a ther little fingers is cut off; — 2nd, 
 they believe at its possible for a chap to bring a 
 new set a laws into England, at nivver wor o'ther 
 seen or heeard tell on afooar, an mak all't fooaks 
 believe at them wert laws at they'd been guvvern'd 
 by all ther loife, an ther fath'ers afooar em ; 
 — an 3rd, they believe at w^once a cha]) perswaded 
 six hunderd thahsand men at he'd led em throo a 
 rivver uppa droi land, whoilt watter stood uppa 
 heeaps a booath soid em, when at same toime they 
 nivver no'ther seed't rivver, nor heeard tell a sitch 
 a thing e all ther loife. 
 
 JooA — Wa, o can do we a bit a soft, but if they 
 can swallow sitch things as them, they're softer 
 nor o've onna occasion for em to be. Bet there's a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 157 
 
 varra laiTi'd chap wot can read lattm's been provin 
 at cliristiannata is'nt true, becost Egyptian con- 
 jurors cud work memcles as weel as Moses. 
 
 Jack — Aye, aye, but where did they work em, 
 an how ? not pubhcly, nobbut befooar Pharaoh ; 
 an they did em be enchantments, that is, be sleight 
 of hand, just as't Chinese jugglers mak snakes nah; 
 an ther awn confession proves it. It sartanla 
 seems monstrous odd, at these conjurors cud mak 
 a big thing loik a frog, an a long thing loike a 
 snake, an cud'nt mak a httle thing loike a louse. 
 An then, there's anuther odd thing abaht it ; if 
 these ma^ficians cud mak frog-s an snakes, an turn 
 waiter into blood, hah wor it they cud'nt turn't 
 blood into watter, an kill t'frogs an snakes ? Wlioy 
 onna clahn can kill frogs, but Pharaoh awlis axt 
 Moses when he wanted to be shut on em. It 
 fursfc three a these merricles, these cunjurors had 
 plenty a toime to prepare for ther deceptions, but 
 this fourt came on em rather to fast ; an then these 
 magicians just prove all at we want ; for they said, 
 " This is the finger of God." 
 
 JooA — Wa then this lattin-larat mansed at'hah't 
 cattle wer kill'd three toimes o'er. 
 
 BiL — Wot, he meean to say at cattle wer kill'd 
 after they wer deead dus he ? If he'd been honest 
 enuff, he'd a tell'd em at that word " all" it 
 Hebrew Scripturs is used in a limited sense e 
 hunderds a places, an e all other languages anole ; 
 it meeans at a great quantity a all sooarts a cattle 
 wer kill'd, 
 
 JooA — Webbut one a these chaps says at they 
 cahnt work memcles nah, on accahnt at improve- 
 ments e masheenarv.
 
 158 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL-^Dusta hear owt, Jack ? thali'l beloik to 
 lig thah intellectual musher abaht tlier phosphorus 
 nappers. 
 
 Jack — Na, lad, there's nowt to fear throo a set 
 a philosophical scavvingers like these ; there wer 
 one yung chap bet all t' lot on em one neet, an 
 turn'd a Summerset laffin besoid. 
 
 J 00 A — Abbut a chap teld me at there's one on 
 em at's a better speyker nor Lord Brougham. 
 
 Jack — Bless me, he's happen animated be Vol- 
 taire's goblin ; but o've heeard tell on him, an he's 
 a topper, o'l ashooar the; he can prove as 
 clear as mud at a thing can be and not be at same 
 toime. 
 
 BiL — He's won at oud stamp, o hear; as Byron 
 said, " When Berkeley said there was no matter, 
 'twas no matter what he said ;" — o dooant need to 
 apply it, o shud think. Has ta ivver lookt at ther 
 heeads. Jack ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, ohav'nt; but o durst wager owt 
 thear is'nt a metaphysical skull amang em. 
 
 BiL — Prethe propooas em sum new subjects to 
 discuss, sitch as ta thinks they'r qualifoid for, we 
 directions hah they're to be debated. 
 
 Jack — O've noo objections, but thah kno's they 
 mun be varra grave subjects, becos they'r sitch 
 varra grave men ; o think e me heart if they'd nob- 
 but wigs on, we shud tak em for cahnsillers. O 
 yis, they'r varra gi'ave, varra serious, varra pious ; 
 an they toke abaht morahty we faces distended tot 
 length of a fiddle. " O for a forty-horse power, to 
 chant thy praise. Hypocrisy!" Wa then, as thear 's 
 twelve a these woise men, o shall propooas twelve
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 159 
 
 woise subjects, sitch as o think worthy a ther grave 
 consideration. 
 
 1. Which is't south soide of a jackass, when his 
 tail stans phnn north ? — Nah, this mun be debated 
 philosophically. 
 
 2. AVot'st reeason at two an two maks four ? — 
 To be debated mathematically. 
 
 3. Hah far is it throot thirty-furst a February 
 tot \yicker brigg ? — To be debated longitudinally. 
 
 4. Which is't thick end of a thowt, when it stans 
 horizontally ? — To be debated materially. 
 
 5. Wot'st diiTerence between a puqjle smell an 
 a bushel a souls ? — To be debated metaphysically. 
 
 6. Which at three animals is't stupidest — a kofe, 
 a ass, or a atheist ? — To be debated comparatively. 
 
 7. Vv^hether thear's oniia climate onna whear 
 wot's coud enuff to freeze words together ? To be 
 debated Ireezingly. 
 
 8. Whether knees or elbers wer made furst, or 
 whether they wer ivver made at all ? — To be debated 
 anatomically. 
 
 9. Wot solidity is ther in a vacuum ? wot culler 
 is ther e sahnd ? an wot weight is ther e darkness ? 
 — This last to be debated gTopingly. 
 
 13. Whether t' north powl be made a ooak or 
 hezzle <* — To be debated botanically. 
 
 11. Whether it be ommast or all ah t true 
 at won a G. F. Bywater's sky-rockets went slap 
 agean't mooin tuther neet, an if not, why not ? 
 — To be debated pp-otechnically. 
 
 12th an last. — That this grave committee taks it 
 into ther vaiTa grave consideration, whether it 
 wud'nt be quoit e character wit rest a ther grave
 
 160 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 proceedins, to purchase one hundred shares it Joint 
 Stock Lunatic Asyhnn Company, two or three for 
 ther awn family use, an't rest to be seld to onna 
 other grave men wot ma be idiot enufi' to join em ? 
 — To be debated gravely. 
 
 These, then, ar't subjects at o think sufficiently 
 gi'ave for't cogitation a onna brains wot's soft enuff 
 to tell fooaks at they can suppress christiannata. 
 But then, o desoir at nooa chap wot gets drunk 
 shall discuss these subjects, becos he's not grave enuff; 
 an o desoir at nooa chap wot's livvin we onnabodda 
 else's woife, when he's won on his own, dus'nt 
 debate these topics, becos a man at practically be- 
 lieves at won an two niaks nobbut one, cahnt be 
 grave enuff to give a reeason mathematically why 
 two an two maks four ; an if there's onna chap 
 amang em wot's kno'n tubbe a notorious liar, he 
 mo'nt meddle we em, becos here's nooa believin 
 him when he spaiks truth : an sooa if these subjects 
 is accepted o shall inquoir ther charracters, an then 
 report ])rogress. 
 
 BiL — Them subjects is all aboon their compre- 
 henshon ; o'l bet a groat to a button- top at there 
 is'nt one e all t'lot at can tell wotst reeason at two 
 an two maks four. O've heeard on a Hoirishman 
 at owt tubbe uppa their Committee ; he wer shooar 
 he could thrust Church dahn ; sooa he pull'd off 
 his clooas, threw em under t' Church winder, an 
 went tot tuther soide to thrust, an when he came 
 back, an saw his clooas gon, " Well," says he, " an 
 be the holy St. Patrick, an shooar enuff, ya see, 
 I've been fooil enuff to thrust the Church right on 
 to me clooas. "
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 161 
 
 Jack — Just a reit an for em ! 
 
 JooA — O wonce heeard tell on a Quaker sarvin 
 one a these woise men aht ; tliey were travvellin 
 ujjpat cooach together, an this woise man had been 
 makkin fun at scriptur for a long whoil, an thowt he 
 wer dooin it ; an he thowt he 'd mak a bit a fun at 
 Quaker; sooa he says to him, "O wunder hah it 
 worat a little chap loik David cud mak a stooan sink 
 intot joiant's heead ; its vaiTa wonderful, is'nt it ?" 
 " Nou," sayst quaker ; " there's nowt wonderful 
 abaht it, at o see on; for ift joiant's heead wer as 
 soft as thine, it ad gooa in easy enufF." 
 
 BiL — Is that 't Sun Newspaper at ta's getn ? is 
 ther owt ? 
 
 Jack — Xowt but Railways an Joint Stock Cum- 
 panies; abodda cahnt look e nooa corner, but here's 
 a Joint Stock Cumpana meets us. 
 
 JooA — They sen here's tubbe a Joint Stock 
 Bread an Flahwer Cumpana; nah o think they 
 owt too a had cheese anole. Wa then here's tubbe 
 a Joint Stock Brewing Cumpana ; but we'l set 
 Temperance chaps at that set ; they'l sooin sattle off 
 we them. 
 
 Jack — Webbut there's tubbe a Joint Stock 
 Weshin an jVIanglin C umpana ; that al j ust suit 
 allt Dolla Doolittles, becos o reckon they'l weshem 
 an mangle em be steam ; then they'l want abaht a 
 thahsand mangles joineiin, an abaht a hunderd moile 
 a clooas cooard spinnin, an abaht fifta thahsand 
 clooas pins makkin, an t' oud Park alwantsawin up 
 for props, an here's a chap bahn to mak sooaj) alit 
 a flint ; an as for starchin an bluein, whoy, that mun 
 be contracted for. 
 
 M
 
 \m THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — A dear hah, all t' world's a Joint Stock 
 Cuinpana. 
 
 JooA — Abbut we'n not all shares aloik. 
 
 Jack — Nou, it nivver wor sooa, nor it wer 
 nivver intended to be sooa, if o mun prophesy ; but 
 o beleeve wot thali says is true, Bil ; for we're browt 
 in tot world be Joint Stock Cumpanies' dispensary 
 an club doctors, an we're guvvern'd be a Joint 
 Stock Cumpana, an when we dee we're put iiitot 
 berrin gralind on a Joint Stock Cumpana ; an sooa 
 it's all Joint Stock ihroo one end tot tuther ; an 
 here's Jooa here went tot Joint Stock Cumpana 
 church yisterda, an he says at he heeard an seed 
 summat at he did'nt loik. 
 
 BiL — Hah's that ? wornt sarmon reit for the ? 
 or did'nt box a wissels bio aht enuff ? 
 
 JooA— Yah't sarmon wer reit enuff, but it seems 
 a vaiTa queer thing to me at fooaks cahnt get there 
 a.t reit toime. Whoy, bless me loife, when fooaks 
 gooas tot play, they're mooastla there hofe an 
 hahwer befooart toime ; but here's a vaiTa menna 
 wot gooas tot chapels an chetches, wot's awhs hofe 
 an hahwer to late ; sum al cum rattlin in we a 
 pair a creakin shoes on, just when he's readin't 
 lessin ; an if ivvera bodda cahnt hear em, thcy'l 
 tak gud care they shall see em ; an sooa they'l 
 bahnce reit intot front at gallara, just as if they 
 wer determined to be soft ; wa then, here's a foine 
 lady cums in, ant nock nobbier runs up an dahn 
 to foind her a seeat ; won squints o'ert top at bible 
 at her ; " A wot a noist bonnet shoo has on," says 
 annther ; an sooa e steead amoindint lessin, there's 
 hofe at fooaks starin at her foine clooas : just nah
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 163 
 
 here's achoild begins apewlin; (that cant be helpt, 
 yo knone^ but then, wots warst ont, t' niuther 
 offens fetches it a gud slap to inak it be quoit, just 
 as if shood be quoit if onna bodda slapt her ; an 
 wot's war still, shoo w^aint tak it aht whoil t' parson 
 tells her, an then shoo looks weel ; o avver, shoo 
 laks care to let the youngster feel her clahters 
 l)efooar shoo weel gets aht, just as a specimen of 
 lier patience, yo knone: nab o do'nt want to hinder 
 iooaks for gooin tot chetch we a yung choild, but o 
 think when they begin a kickin up a noise, o'ther 
 v>e lafhn or blutherin, they owt to tak em aht, becos 
 they can get no gud ther sens, an they hinder 
 ivvera bodda else abaht em for gettin onna. An 
 tlien ther wer anulher tiling at o seed at oMid'nt loik ; 
 ihere wor sum yung fo])s a won soid at gallara, an 
 sum lasses at tuther, an they kept wi ikin an laffin 
 at w^on anuther when he wer praichin : if o cud'nt 
 gooa tot chetch or chapel, an behave mesen, o'd 
 stop at hooam. But ther wer anuther thing at 
 sartanla wor enuff to mak abodda laff ; ther wor two 
 chaps in a square seeat sat opposit won anuther, an 
 they wer booath asleep, an there the\' booath wer 
 noddin at won anuther, just as if they wer practissin 
 which cud mak t' noistest bow ; enah won on em 
 wakkens, rubs his eyes, stretches his arms, an gapes 
 a long I — I — I — om, quoit devotionally, yore 
 sh ure. — (In terriipted.) 
 
 ]»IL — Just let me tell the, o knode an oud chap 
 ;«t \\er wonce praichin to a sleepy congregation, an 
 he shahted as hard as ivver he cud, " Foir ! foir ! 
 loir!" Upjumpt one chap, an stares all rahnd, 
 " Where ? where ? where ?" says he; " E hell !" 
 says t' parson : but o avver, it wakken'd em.
 
 164 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 JooA — Webbut o clooant loik sitch things ; o 
 think if fooaks ad consider where they are, an wot 
 they owt tubbe dooin, all this sooat a wark ad be 
 dun away. If a chap cahnt keep wakken, whoy, 
 let him do as we'n dun menny a toime ; ge his sen 
 a gud nip, an stan up a bit ; that al cure him o'l be 
 bun fort. 
 
 BiL — O say, ond chap, wot thinks ta abaht 
 Bu(;kingham's claims ? has he onna, thinks ta ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, to tell the t' truth, o think mooar 
 abaht me awn clahns nor his, an if o cud get moine 
 thear'd be a sovrin or two for him; they'n robb'd 
 him on abaht forta thahsand pahnd exactla ; sooa if 
 he has na claims, it's a saltier. 
 
 J 00 A — Wot did they banish him for ? o've heeard 
 a deeal a toke abaht it, but o nivver cud get to kno 
 wot he did. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, he writ a bit a fun abaht an oud 
 scotch parson for neglectin his flock, just wot ivvera 
 bodda else ad a dun. 
 
 JooA — Dusta kno whear he wer born ? sum says 
 at hah he's a Hoirishman, but o think he dus'nt 
 look loik that breed no'ther. 
 
 Jack — O kno whear o've heeard say he wer bom. 
 
 Jog A — Whear ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, at their hahce ; he's his father's 
 son, be his mother's soide ; he wer bom withaht a 
 shirt, an cum intot world screeamin, sumwhear e 
 Cornwall, o've been teld; but if ta wants to kno 
 onna mooar, thah mun ax him t' next toime he 
 cums to Shevvild. 
 
 JooA — Hollo, thear's alu' Bess cummin ; nah. 
 Jack, thah says at thah can tell whether a chap ad
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 165 
 
 mak a dacent husband be lookin an feelin at his 
 heead ; prethe tell her whoile shoos here. 
 
 Jack — OVenooa objection, an if shoo'l doo as o 
 want her, ol waiTand it shoo'l get a sensable chap. 
 
 JooA — That's just \yot o want her to have ; if 
 o'm a thickheead, o dooant want her to have one. 
 
 Jack — Xah Bess, lass, dusta keep iniddHn ? 
 wot, thah cud loike to be maiiid, o guess, cud'nt 
 ta? 
 
 Bess — O'm e nooa vaiTa gret hurra, not o, 
 niaiTa ; o think thear's a menna gels marrid, an's 
 soom hofe worrid ; chaps is o'er desateful nah-days : 
 but still o shud'nt moind if o cud leet on a reit an. 
 
 Jack — Thah't happen hard to pleease ; — wot 
 sooart an a chap shud ta bike, if ta cud ha\e the 
 pick ? 
 
 Bess — Whoy, aboon all things, o shud'nt loike a 
 chap v.ot gets drunk, nor o shud'nt loik a thickheead ; 
 o shud loik a chap at ad moind his wark, we a bit a 
 gud sense in his heead. 
 
 J AC K — Wa then o'l tell the wot thah mun doo ; when 
 a chap cums to see the, thah mun tell him to pull 
 his hat off, an thah mun measure rahnd thickest 
 part on his heead, an if it dus'nt tell aboon eighteen 
 or nointeen inches, thah ma mak the sen shnre at 
 he's not all thear ; but if his heead's twenta two or 
 three mches, he's nooa idiot, at onna rate. Wa 
 then, thah mun look at top on his heead, rayther 
 towards t' back, if owt, an if it stans up in a sooart 
 an a ridge, an thah foinds a gret bump just aboon 
 his ear, an a varra low forheead, thah mun set hhn 
 a gooin we a rattle, for if ta mames him, he'l sooin 
 rattle thee ; he'l be as stupid as a pot mule, an as
 
 166 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 cruel as a Turk. But if these parts ar'nt as o've 
 said, thah mun look a bit hoigher abooii his ear, an 
 if it's varra rahnd an full, thah mun ax him hah 
 menna lasses he's deceived afooar ; he's as full a 
 deception as oud Nick, an as big a thief, ten to 
 won ; thah mun set him a gooin anole. An when 
 ta sees at a chap's mooast brains at back on his 
 ears, we a varra low flat forheead, an a low crahn, 
 thah ma depend on't, he's all animal; he'l be a 
 reggilar brute, guilta a ivvera thing wot's bad an 
 filthy. But if ta foinds a chap we his ears a rare 
 wav offen his forheead, an his forheead hoigli an 
 bold, depend on't he's sum sense Jibaht him ; an ii 
 he's varra full just aboon't top on his forheead, an 
 not to hoigh aboon't ears, we two full corners a 
 booath soides at top on his heead, an't top middlin 
 full, that's chap, he's ivvera thing wot's gud abaht 
 him ; do ivvera thing at ta prudently can ta mak 
 him the husband ; depend on't, if ta marries sitcli a 
 chap as that, thah'l bo as happy as ta possabla can 
 be e this world. 
 
 Bess — Webbut if o wer to foind a chap a that 
 sooat, he'd happen want to look at mo heead, an if 
 moine wornt a reit an, o shud be na forrader, yo 
 knone ; o shud loik to kuo wot sooat on a heead 
 yo think o have. 
 
 Jack — Wa, o can have a pratta guess; pull the 
 bonnet off. {Takes her bonnet off.) O can tell 
 thee one thing t'farst look ; if the ears had'nt 
 been a gret way offa the forheead, an the forheead 
 pratta full an hoigh, thah'd a been as stupid ast 
 chap wot wanted to stop t'tide we a muck-fork : 
 but thah art a bit passionate sumtoims, arnt ta ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 1«7 
 
 Bess — Hah, me fath'er's been tellin ya ; but o 
 dooant bear mallis, o'm shure. 
 
 Jack — Tliah's a van-a gud memmora, Bess, o'm 
 sbure, the eyes stans aht sooa; but thah dus'nt 
 tell all thah kuo's ; an if o'm not wrang, t'soid a 
 thah heead tells me at thah's a bit a brass sum- 
 where or anuther. 
 
 JooA — Whoy, thah sees. Jack kno's as much 
 abaht thee as o doo. 
 
 Bess — Wa then, wot'n ya say abaht it ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, its mo opinyon at thah's a varra 
 gud heead, an o doo rala think, wethaht flatteiin 
 thee, at thah'l mak a varra cai'eful, hard-workin 
 woife. 
 
 BiL — See the. Jack, heres t'oud fiddler cummin ; 
 sho him them accumpaniments a thoine, an let's 
 hav him a bit. 
 
 Jack — Wot, yo're cum'd o'er, o see ; wot dust 
 fiddle mend onna ? yo shud a browt it we ya ; o've 
 an accumpaniment here o want ya to look at; its a 
 varra gud an, an o intend ahr choral concert chaps 
 to perform it for a middle piece t' next oratore-i-o 
 they han. 
 
 Fiddler — O shud loik ta see it; is it in a 
 major or a moiner key. 
 
 Jack — O, its a vaiTa curious piece ; but it cahnt 
 be played nobbut in a oppen key. 
 
 Fiddler — Wot toim is it play'd in ? 
 
 Jack — That al depend uppa ther feelin, but o 
 think they'l play it e quick common toime, or 
 summat a that. 
 
 Fw'DLER — Cum then, mo lad, o hooap thab't 
 gooin .) let's see it.
 
 168 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Wa, here it is, an"^ o'l warrand it tubbe't 
 best accumpaniment at ivver yo seed for a middle 
 piece. 
 
 Fiddler — {Shouts) — Houd the noise, mun ! 
 t'furst two nooats is as rank a discord as ivver cum 
 aht at nooas of a jackass- Its hoiTable mmi. It 
 begins we a shaip seventh, an ends we a flat ninth. 
 Its impossable to play it. 
 
 Jack — Just look agean, oud frend, e booath t' 
 cHffs, an tell ust names at nooats. 
 
 Fiddler — O'm shure its vvrang ; thali ma see 
 that the sen ; thah dus'nt pretend to say at B an 
 C al cooard, dusta ? 
 
 Jack — Webbut just tell us t nooats, an o think 
 yo'l foind at it's reit, an at it's a capital accumpani- 
 ment anole. 
 
 Fiddler — Wa, o can mention 't nooats, but 
 that al mak em na better. Thear's B, E, E, F, it 
 .treble cliff, an thear's C, A, B, B, A, G, E, it base 
 cliff, an if onuabodda can play them together, 
 o've dun. 
 
 Jack — That's just reit ; nah o'l put it to onna 
 musician it world, after he's been faggin at it for 
 abaht iwo hahwers, whether he wod'nt loik to per- 
 form that accompaniment. Bless yer soul, man, 
 ivvera nooat's so varra savvora, atfurst seet on em's 
 enuffto mak a fellow's chaps watter whoile he 
 rooar'd ; it ad have sitch an effect on his feelins 
 befooar he'd played ten minnits e quick toime on 
 a oppen key, at he'd hai'dla ivver kno at he'd been 
 play in at all. 
 
 Fiddler — O tell the nobbada can play it, 
 uo'ther e nooa toime nor e nooa key.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 169 
 
 BiL — Spell it, oud lad. 
 
 Fiddler — Wot, spell music ! {Looks care- 
 fully.) — — O, thah'rt there, are ta? it's 
 " Beef " an " Cabbage " o see. Aye, aye, it's a 
 proime accompaniment for a middle piece ; o cud 
 loike to perform it nah vaiTa much ; o've a pratta 
 gud edge on ; but o've nooa daht but choral chaps 
 al doo it justis when they perform it.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 
 
 ** UP PA AHR HULL AESTON." 
 
 NO. II. 
 (From the "Annual" for 1837 J 
 
 Jack Wheelswarf — Nah, mo lads, we'n get'n 
 tot shank end at year ageean. An o'm glad to see 
 ahr good oud sniooky Shevvild's in a throivin way. 
 Yo seen we're gerrin on wit new Church it Park, 
 an't Horticulteral Gardens, an't Symmetry swim- 
 minla, an o expect we shall hev't Mechannicks' 
 Hall poppin up enah, just loik, a mushrum in a 
 fog : an thanks to summada, we'n get'n a varra 
 respectable set a police to shovel nusences aht at 
 gate, for we'n had a gud menny at street comers 
 latela. Wa then, it drinkin world we're improvin 
 mooast amazingly, for they sen here's aboon seven 
 hunderd teetotallers e Shevvild nah, wot nivver 
 drinks na ale, but o mo stars, they drink sum 
 Samson : — an't kah keepers has raised milk but
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 171 
 
 ne'er heed ift Watter Cumpana al nobbut let us 
 hev't watter a bit thicker it al mak proime pomdge, 
 an then t' kali jobbers al look as silly as M ester 
 Bell did when he cum to represent Shevvild, ancud 
 foind nobboda but a Tory to represent him ; 
 nobboda dahted quallata of his clapper; but his 
 bell metal wer crackt_, an sooa he cut his stick. A 
 sum hah, t' radicals cahnt live here ; there wer won 
 cum alit at mooin a whoil sin, bur he fell sick an 
 deed e quick toime ; an sooa t' mooin 's left man- 
 less. Nah then for subjects for ahr annual: 
 
 astronomy's aht on us raich ; politics ad clam us to 
 deeath; metaphysics — tlieres na dooin nowt we them 
 withaht summat to drink to em ; an if it wornt fort 
 temperance chaps' consciences, we'd rather be hofe 
 crack a bottle a hooam brew'd, nor crack us brains 
 we unriddlin metajDhysical impossibilities, an sitch 
 
 loik. Hark ! ! O, its sum gret big west cmitra 
 
 fellow croyin blankits, we abaht as much music in 
 his voice as ther is it squeeal of a pig when his 
 heead's fast betweent bars of a gate. But we're 
 not tubbe dun we that set ; we'st spend ahr brass it 
 shops, where w^e kno they'l use us week O my 
 stars an garters ! Chrissmas is cummin, yo ma 
 see, if yo'l nobbut look it drapers' shops, an sitch. 
 Wot a sho aht a winter ware ! Lady's ruffs, an 
 muffs, an muffatees, an boars wot raiches all o'er ; 
 an gluvs, oh my fingers ! they ahr tight, an's stufft 
 we wool ; it's just loik thruslin yer hand up tot rist 
 into a feather poke nest : an as fort soize a ther 
 shawls, just think for a minnit abaht main sail of a 
 man a war ; an jMackintosh capes wot al keep 
 woind an watter aht sold passengers for a munth ;
 
 172 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 besoid tliem gi-et big strong thick ruff bare coits, 
 we buttons on summat loik a full mooin ; when a 
 chap gets into won a them, he looks just like a 
 walkin watch-box. AVa, then, to niak us cum- 
 fortubble these coud neets, they'n stacks a blankits 
 an bumjD sheets. — Aye, aye, all these things is 
 shure soigns at we'n get'n tot tuther end at 
 year. 
 
 JooA Crocus — Abbut here's summat at ahr 
 hahce wot lets me kno at Chrissmas is cummin. 
 Yo kno'n we'n better nor hofe a dozen childer 
 uppat arston nah, an they talc'n sum scrattin for, 
 o'l ashure ya ; — t'last Setterda neet tliear wer two 
 pair a shoos to pay for soihn an heelin ; this week 
 Ned al want a pair a new ans ; an Tom's wants 
 cappilin. O'l be chipt if a bodda can ivver gooa 
 hooam this coud rainy weather, but thear's o'ther 
 won or anuther on em pokin up ther little legs, — 
 ** Dad, me shoos lets watter in ; mun e have em 
 mended ?" Won at lasses wants a pair a new pat- 
 tins, an anuther wants a pair ringin ; t'oud um- 
 bereller wants mendin for ivvera day, an a new an 
 bupn for Sundays ; an't childer 's bed wants a pair 
 a blankets ; an we foind bottom at coil heeap ivvera 
 foive or six week ; an we burn a palmd a candles 
 extra ; an it's mo belief at childer heits mooar this 
 coud wether nor they dun e summer. An o think 
 these is varra serious soigns anole. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Webbut thali says yo'n better 
 nor hofe a dozen childer uppat arston ; does thah 
 meean to say at yo'n seven ? 
 
 JooA — Nou, lad, seven's war nor hofe a dozen ; 
 ive'n foive at hooam, an won prentis at Cornish
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 173 
 
 Place, t' biggist metal factory e all't world, whear 
 they'l spin a tay-pot befooai' a bodda can say Jack 
 Robison. Tliear's won chap wot works thear at 
 yus't to play t'comer ciiobard for us at Chrissmas; 
 lie'st best snuff-box makker e all't world, an o shud 
 think he's made as rnenny as ad snuff all't nooases 
 e England. An as for spooins, whoy they'n spooins 
 for onna mahth throo a infant a span long to a 
 Oirish giant wot cud leet his poip at a gas-lamp. 
 
 BiLLA FoRKDUST — Wlioy, thali teld me tliah'd 
 Iweh^e childer ; o avver, thah said thah'd four lasses, 
 an ivvera won on em ad two brothers, an that maks 
 twelve, yo kno'n. 
 
 Jack — Ah lads, Billa ! reckon ageean, mun ; 
 stur't foir up, Jooa. 
 
 JooA — O think he wants sum leet uppat sub- 
 ject. — Jem, fetch sum coil. Hark the wot a woind! 
 it al ge em sum squat uppat Hurnber to neet. Jack, 
 did thah ivver gooa to Lmmon be watter ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, lad, o do'nt believe e bein sea-sick 
 for eighteen or tw^enty hahwers, rollm abaht uppa 
 deck, as if o did'nt care whether o liv'd or deed. 
 O, says won, if ivver o set mo feet uppa land, he'l 
 be a foine feller at al get me here agean. Fetch 
 me a bucket, croies anuther, we a face t' culler of a 
 sheet. It's vast noist, that, eh ? 
 
 Jooa — O think there's not much fun in it ; but 
 then, thah kno's they're better at after for it ; but 
 o believe thear's a good menna went to Lunnon be 
 watter wot fun't rooad hooam agean be land. Here's 
 Jem vvit coil : on we it, lad ; let's mak us sens 
 cumfortable. For mo part, o loik winter 't best ; 
 a bodda can get sum readm dun nah ; yo kno'n we
 
 174 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 can sit as snug as a button in us two arm'd chair, 
 after we'n dun us wark at neet, be a warm 
 foirsoide, an gooa we Captain Parry tot north powl, 
 or we FrankHn tot Copper-mine River, an sitch 
 loike. 
 
 Bii, — O'm vast fond a readin travels anole, an 
 if o'd plenta a brass, o'd travel me sen. 
 
 Jack — Just tell us nah where ta'd travel too, 
 if ta cud. 
 
 BiL — Wa, then, o'l just tell the on a noist 
 rahnd ; ant furst place at o'd gooa too after o left 
 Shevvild ad be Heeley ; an then to Lunnun ; wa, 
 then, o'd get intot English Channel as sooin as o 
 cud, an aht a there intot Atlantic Ocean, sail past 
 Portugal, an turnt corner a Spain, an throot str;iits 
 a Gibraltar intot Mediterranean ; leeaviug Mo- 
 rocco an Barbara, an that lot, at me reit hand, o'd 
 get into Turke}^ an after o'd seen Constantinople, 
 o'd tak a walk he land to Mecca in Arabia, an have 
 a look at oud Mahomet's toom ; wa then o'd slutter 
 o'ert Persian Gulf to 1 spahan, an throo Persia tot 
 Indies, to Calcutta, whe'rt East Indy Companyruin'd 
 Buckingham ; throo there o'd gooa into Choina to 
 Pekin, where they heit dogs an cats, an get o'ert 
 great wall into Chinese Tartara, an ])op throo 
 Russian Tartara, an Russia into Poland, where 
 after sheddhi a few tears fort poor Poles, o'd get 
 into Jarmanna, an then crost Jarman Oshan to 
 Hornsea, an after stoppin a week at Dame Myas's 
 to rest me sen, o'd ride to Hull, sail to New Brigg, 
 jump uppat Waterwitch, an cum hooam. 
 
 J 00 A — Good an ! o think thahd want the shoos 
 soiHn afooar tha get back.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 175 
 
 Jack — O'd a cum'd hooamt back way, o avver, 
 whoil o wer e Russian Tartara, o'd a gon throo 
 Siberia to Nova Zembla, intot Icy Oslian, an o'ert 
 North Povvl into Baffin's Bay, dahn Davis's straits, 
 intot Atlantic agean, an then to Liverpool, an 
 hooam. 
 
 JooA — Aye, aye, it's varra noist gooin rahnd 
 twurld bit foirside, we a poip stuck e yer cheek, 
 
 an a tot a hooam brewed Whisht ! whisht t 
 
 thah mun shig small abaht ale ; there's a teetotaler 
 there. 
 
 BiL — O say. Jack, ihahs varra often sed at 
 thahd sunimat marvellous to tell us when thah cud 
 get sumraada's consent ; if ta's get'n it prethe tell 
 us. 
 
 JoOA — Hah, he has ; an o've wunder'd menny a 
 toiiue wot it cud be abaht : cmn. Jack, here's a 
 cheerful foir, an a cleean arston ; let's have it. 
 
 Jack — Wa, it's a curious consarn, o'l ashooar 
 ya ; an nivver wer made public befooar ; but o've 
 get'nt chap's leave to tell all abaht it ; an as me 
 poip's just aht, yo'st have it, tot best a mo recol- 
 lection. Accoardin tot best o mo memora, it's nah 
 aboon fifteen year sin this singular event took 
 place. O shall ne'er forget it whoil o live, nor ahr 
 cud lass waint no'ther. It wer won dark dismal 
 dreary neet when a stranger made his appearance 
 at ahr hahce, it mooast distresst an helpless con- 
 dition possible ; he wer barefooted an withaht 
 hat ; an o wud'nt a gen him a fardin for allt 
 clooas he had on his back ; he'd had nowt to heit 
 for menny a day, an he wor sooa wake at he 
 rala cud'nt stan. sartanla wer van-a much
 
 176 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 affected ine sen ; but as for ahr dame, iiioi stars ! 
 o tliowt it wer all up we her ; it made her sa badla 
 at they wer fooast to put her to bed, an shoo did'nt 
 get better for aboon a week ; shoos varra tender- 
 hearted, yo seen, an shoo'd a gud deeal a feeling 
 u])pa this occasion ! an for all this chap ad been't 
 cause a all this stur, an had made ahr dame so ill, o 
 cud'nt help but pity him, pooai' fellow, he seem'd 
 so innocent and helpless ; o seed at a stare he 
 vvomt a impostor, an o seed anole at if he womt 
 relieved directla, at he'd soon be deead. Even mo 
 woif, when shoo'd get'n o'ert freet, cud'nt help but 
 freely forgive him all't injury he'd dun her, an wer 
 quoite as willin at pooar crater shud be tain care 
 on, as o wor ; an sooa we took't poor fellor in, an 
 furnisht him we ivvera thing at wer loikla to mak 
 him cimifortable. O'l uphoud ya, he wer in a poor 
 dirta condition ; an sooa they wesht him, an get 
 him sum clooas on, an offer 'd him summat to lieit ; 
 but hah grievous ! he'd been so long withaht owt, an 
 his nater wer so wake at he cud no'ther heit beef nor 
 puddin ; if he'd a hetten a quarter of a j^ahnd a o'ther 
 mutton or beef, o believe it ad a kill'd him; an sooa 
 yo knone they geed him a bit at a toime an offen 
 a wot they thowt ad be easy to disgest. Well, there 
 wer rucks at naburs cum in to look at him, yo're 
 shure, an vai'ra much they pittid him ; but ther 
 pity nivver get aht a ther mahth into ther pockets. 
 " Poor crater !" said won, an " Wot ivver's to be 
 dun we him ?" said anuther ; but nivver a won on 
 em browt him, nou not so much as a oud hat, or a 
 oud pair a stockins, or a oud shirt, nor a single 
 fardin ; an for all they kno'd at them wot gives tot
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 177 
 
 pooar lends to the Lord, they'd non on em nowt to 
 put aht : an here's a varra menna at same stamp 
 yit. Well, they wod'nt tak him intot warkas, an 
 as for sendm him away we a pass, it wer aht at 
 queshton : an yo may happen think he's a Hoirish- 
 man becos ther wornt na paiTishes where he cums 
 thi-oo ; hut he is'nt, nor a Scotchman no'lher. O 
 avver, hooath me an ahr dame wer determined 
 we'd tak cai-e on him : wa then, after a whoil, when 
 things wer a bit sattled, ant poor fellah had getn 
 waiin'd, an his nater a bit strengthen 'd we summat 
 to heit, sum at naburs begun a tokin to him, as 
 menny a won's dun sin ; an among other things 
 they ax't him where he came throo, an wot he came 
 there for, an if he wornt ashamed on his sen for 
 disturbin fooaks at that toime at neet, an wot 
 countryman he wor, an wot wer his name, an a 
 whooal heeap moor at o've forgetn ; an strange to 
 tell ! they cud'nt get a single word aht on him, at 
 ad ge onna satisfaction. Wa, then they call'd him 
 rascal, villan, rooag, an thretten'd to flog him ; but 
 il all made vaiTa little impression on him ; for he 
 nobbut laft at em ; he did'nt seem as if he cared a 
 rush for onna on em. But there sartanla wor 
 summat vaiTa queer abaht him : sumtoimes he wer 
 varra gud-nater'd ; yo mut a dun or said owt to 
 him : an at o,ther toimes, for all he ommast ow'd 
 his loife to us, he wer ill-temper 'd past livvin we : 
 an as to his religion, nobboda cud get that aht on 
 him, an o believe me sen it wer hard to tell wot he 
 wor : he womt a Methodist ; for he'd nivver heeai'd 
 tell a Wesley befooar ; he wornt a Papist ; for he 
 paid nooa respect tot Pope's supremacy : sum ma
 
 178 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 think at he wor a Independent, but he wornt ; he 
 did'ut loike infant sprinkHn ; an he wor nooa 
 Baptist, for he detested duckin war still. He paid 
 mooar regard to birth privileges nor owt else, and 
 seemed to derive mooar cnnilort aht on em nor owt 
 besoide. Wa then, as to his person, there wer 
 summat rather singular abaht him : when he wer 
 \>'e3ht an clooath'd an refvesht a bit, he seem'd to 
 have a vaiTa pratta cahntenance ; he'd blue eyes, 
 leetish culler 'd hair, as though he wer young ; but 
 then he had no foreteeth, as if he wer oud ; o avver, 
 his havvin no teeihdid'nt alter his speech a bit ; an he 
 wer as fluent, an as much an orator, as won can imagine 
 a person loik him to be. He niv ver spake, but wit 
 strictest propriety ; he mut a been spokken too o'ther 
 e French or Lattin, an he'd a answer 'd e o'ther on em 
 as weel as in his muther tung. He wer varra 
 much loik a traveller, us't to all sooarts a cumpana; 
 an nivver seem'd to be a bit bashful. He wer 
 summat odd in his diet ; he did'nt much matter 
 meit, an though he wonit a tee-totaler, he'd nivver 
 tasted ale e all his loife, an did'nt much matter it 
 nah ; but moi stars ! he cud twist sum milk into 
 him ; we wer awlis fooast to let him have his meals 
 to his sen. O avver, we'n ivvera reeason to beheve 
 at he's cum'd ofFen a vaiTa dacent fammala : an 
 onnabodda wot wants to see him may cum to ahr 
 hahce, an they'st be satisfoid. 
 
 JooA — Thah maks me stare. Jack ; does thah 
 mean to say at yo'n kept him ivver sin ? 
 
 Jack — O doo, mo lad ; an o'm as fond on him 
 iiali as if he wer me own. 
 
 J 00 A — Webbut, consarn it, it's quear ; o cahnt
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 179 
 
 get into it, reitla : hab oiid v;or he \Yheii he furst 
 cum ? is he gerrin oiid ? 
 
 Jack — He's not thiu'ia nah, an sooahe cud'ntbe 
 van'a oud. 
 
 JooA — An diis'nt ta kno vvhear he cum throo ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, h'es been call'd a Dutchman 
 menny a toime, an sum's called him a Scotchman ; 
 but o'l ashure thee, quear as it ma seem, he's 
 nivver v.once teld me whear he cum throo yit. 
 
 JooA — O shud ne'er a tain him in, o'm shure, if 
 it had been me. 
 
 Jack — Abbut dus'nt thah kno at remembrance 
 of a good action's sweet ? 
 
 JooA — Hah big is he ? 
 
 Jack — Hees not a big an ; o do'nt think he's 
 aboon foive feet an a hofe. 
 
 BiL — Well, Jack, thah's set'n me fast ; thah's 
 tiini'd mo heead rahnd, o avver. 
 
 JoOA — O say, Bil, has thah that letter e the 
 pocket wot Flummery sent thah dowter ? 
 
 Bil — Hah, o have ; an its nooa fooil on a letter 
 nother : o've seen sum.mat loik it afooar, but not 
 hofe so long. But shoo fun it aht, thah knose, at 
 he loikt rather to much ale ; an sooa shoo sent him 
 a gagger back agean it same stoile ; but o'l read it 
 ya. {Bil reach.) 
 
 Dear Love, — It is with much humiliation and 
 perspiration and meditation and consideration and 
 irritation and meditation and veneration, that I 
 give you this intimation of the horrible agitation 
 of my whole sensation; and though such repre- 
 sentation may possiblv meet your disapprobation.
 
 t80 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 yet it is my determination without further pro- 
 crastination to make an early appHcation for your 
 dehghtful association, which to me would be the 
 most unspeakable gratification. The estimation 
 in which I hold your qualification, is my only 
 justification for this obsecration. Believe me, 
 ]Mary, there is neither dissimulation, adulation, 
 fabrication, equivocation, falsification, machination, 
 affectation, precipitation, prevarication, nor sophis- 
 tication in my communication. The contemplation 
 of your immaculation fills my whole soul with 
 exultation ; and your acceptation of my invitation 
 will be an immediate extrication of my captivation ; 
 and the delectation flowing from your capitulation 
 will be a combination of consolation, exhilaration, 
 alleviation, annexation, and assimilation ; but an 
 abnegation would be productive of consternation 
 and lachrymation ; and emaciation would be the 
 fearful consequence of your alienation from my 
 advocation. Dear love, such an indication of your 
 disinclhiation to change your situation for my 
 habitation, will be an obliteration of my meditation 
 and an accumulation of lamentation wiihout cessa- 
 tion. Nay, excusation, even in moderation, would 
 be worse than assassination. But shall I not hope 
 that ere long deosculation with deliberation may 
 be the attestation of our celebration ? Such a 
 manifestation of your inclination would fill my 
 imagination with irradiation. My supplications 
 and ejaculations are without calculation ; and I 
 trust that your declaration with discrimination will 
 be a corroboration of my expectation ; and then, 
 oh what sweet interrogation, without the least
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. ISl 
 
 derogation to our mutual edification ! That this 
 solicitation may be a stimulation to our approx- 
 imation, then my anticipation ^yill be lost in the 
 realization of your consociation. 
 
 Yours most affectionately in admiration. 
 JoHX William Thomas Flummery. 
 
 JooA — Wa, he's a rattler, o avver; he's ransact 
 Dictionary for all them, o'm quoit shure. But wot 
 a foine oily tung he has, has'nt he ? — enuff to 
 desave oud mucklehorn de'il his sen. O'l be bun 
 lor it, he wer hofe drunk when he writ it. Cum, 
 then, let's hear what shoos sed to him ; o hooap 
 shoos gen it him reit. He has na names hardla, 
 has he ? Wot a swell ! John Wilham Thomas 
 Flummery — moi stars ! wot a lot a mummerv ! 
 
 BiL — Cum, then, o'l just read ya^her reply, an 
 
 think it's a varra gud an ; it's just sitch a won as 
 he owt to have : 
 
 Sir, — I received your annunciation, and 
 
 1 think there needs but little penetration to discover 
 the fermentation of your cogitation, and the exag- 
 geration of your observation. Possibly I may be 
 the causation of your vexation ; for your explication 
 lias no temptation for me to become your relation, 
 and I have no commiseration for your pretended 
 deploration. ]My negation of your jDrotestalion is 
 the consequence of the multiplication of your 
 potations, which are no commendation of your 
 prostration, but rather a deterioration oi your 
 affirmation. Your pretended adoration will be no 
 acceleration to our amalgamation ; and believe me.
 
 182 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 I call only give you an adumbration of the detest- 
 ation I feel for the creature who, worse than the 
 brute, is gnilty of intoxication. Sir, it is that 
 cursed crime which is the cause of so much de- 
 generation, accusation, altercation, calumniation, 
 contamination, debilitation, defamation, depri- 
 vation, invocation, laceration, domination, dis- 
 putation, desolation, violation, desecration, cri- 
 mination, depredation, molestation, provocation, 
 and every species of abomination. With such a 
 classification of imputation, I make no hesitation 
 in the administration of this flagellation ; and I 
 can assure you that no argumentation shall ever 
 induce me to take your appellation ; therefore your 
 farther application will only merit my declamation ; 
 so your speculation will have a speedy termination, 
 without any compensation : and you have now a 
 demonstration of my execration of inebriation ; so 
 that without a mighty reformation, and a good share 
 of sanctification, you may save yourself the trouble 
 of another oration. 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 CASTIGATION. 
 
 Jack — Shoo's gen it' the little drunken scamp 
 just reit. Hello, here's Jem's gronmuther w^e his 
 drinkin ; let's ax t'oud lass if shoo wer at chapel 
 t'last iieet. 
 
 JooA — Nah, dame, hah ahr ya ? 
 
 Dame — A, mo lad, o'ni nobbut poorly ; but o 
 cahnt expect to be varra weel at mo age ; yo seen 
 o'ln turn'd seventy-won, an o've had a varra deeal 
 a trubble e me loif, an a gret fammala, yo seen ; 
 but o've reeason tubbe thankful at o'm na war.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 183 
 
 JooA — Wor ja at chappel t'last neet, dame ? 
 
 Dame — Hah, mo lad ; o shall gooa to't chappel 
 whoil ivver o can crawl aht ; mo religion's all't 
 cumfort o have e this world, mo lad, 
 
 .Too A — Wa, an hah did ya loikt parson ? 
 
 Dame — O loikt him micommon weel, o'l up- 
 lioiid thee. 
 
 JooA — Cud ya miderstand all he sed ? 
 
 Dame — Hah, mo lad, van'a weel. 
 
 JoOA — Dmi ya remember him makkhi use at 
 word metaphizzics ? 
 
 Dame — O doo, mo lad, varra weel; it's a blessed 
 word, that ! 
 
 JooA — Then yo knone wot it means, o reckon ? 
 
 Dame — A, bless the, mo lad, tubbe shure o 
 doo ; it means at Jesus Christ's booath meit an 
 phizzick. 
 
 Jack — Well dun. Dame ! that'st best definition 
 at ivver o heeard e all mo loif. 
 
 Bii. — O say. Jack, o've a proim.e plate for the ; 
 thear wer foive or six on em drest ther sens pratta 
 smart, an went an axt a landlord if they cud have 
 a proivate room for a day, as they'd a small parta. 
 " O yis," says he, " we've a beautiful room up 
 stairs, an we'st be glad to sarve ya we onna thing at 
 t' hahce aiTooards." Sooa they get ther dinners an 
 tay, an a lot a drink ; an when they thowt they'd 
 had enuff, they call'd t' landlord up, an tell'd him to 
 bring em a bill ; sooa he varra sooin did that, an 
 for heitin an drinkin they'd £l. Is. 6d. to pay. 
 Sooa they said won to anuther, " It's varra little." 
 " It is," says anuther, " o'l pay it." " Nay, thah 
 shahnt, o will," said a third, an slapt his hand iu
 
 184 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 his pocket ; whoile a fourt, in as big a huny, 
 says, " Nou, iioii, o'l pay it me sen." An't land- 
 lord lafft heartily ; they'r reit ans, these, says he to 
 his sen, they'n plenty a brass, "■ Cum, cum," 
 says a fifth, just for a lark, o'l tell ya hah it shall 
 be ; t'landlord shall be blufted, an't first he catches 
 shall pay all, Sooa they all agreed, an whoile won 
 chap wer bluftin him, tuthers pull'd off ther shoos, 
 an set off dahn stairs, an aht at hahce they soil'd, 
 an't last chap follow'd em. Sooa t' landlord's son 
 seein em run aht a that way, went up stairs to see 
 wot wer't matter, an he'd no sooner get'n intot 
 room, but his fath'er ligs fast bond on him, — " Yo 
 pay, yo pay, yo pay," says he. Beledda, t' son 
 thowt he'd been crazed; but when he unblufted 
 him, an he seed his (customers had cut an diddled 
 him, O moi stars ! hah he rompt an stamp t an 
 rooai'd loike a tahn bull ! yo'd a thowt he'd a cut'n 
 his throit, he wer so mad. 
 
 Jack — It's a good an ; temperance chaps would 
 enjoy ther sens ore that. But here, o'l tell the a 
 tale, hah to meet sorrow. A woman went into a 
 nabur's hahce one day, v:a when shoo get in, l' 
 missis wer set in a chair it middle at hahce 
 flooar, wit choild on her knee rooarin as if her vaiTa 
 heart ad braik. *' Bless me," says't wuinman, 
 " wots i wer't matter, Nansa ? Is't choild badla ?" 
 But shoo sed nowt, but huddled choild to her 
 breast, an blest it little heart, an then shoo sobb'd 
 ageean. " Nansa, Nansa," said't wumman, " wots 
 ivver't matter ? yore ommast heart brokken." But 
 shoo still took no nooatis, but prest little an still 
 cloiser to her : " Moi pratta crater," says slioo.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 18o 
 
 " Is it badla ?" says't wumman, " or has it getn 
 lamed ? O dear, O dear, wots't matter ?" " A mo 
 lass," says shoo, " o werjust thiDkin if that sauce- 
 pan full a boilin hot watter wer to tmnble o'er an 
 scald this choild to deeath, wot a thiiig it ad be, an 
 all throo me wanthi to wesh't dishes up." 
 
 BiLLA — Wot, hail yo heeard these lecters abaht 
 wimmin, be wot dun they call her ? — wot's her 
 name, Jooa ? let's see ; bless me, at o shud forget ! 
 shoo cums throo Lunnun, o think : \Yot a memra 
 o have ! they call her Miss — Miss — Miss — 
 consarn it ! Miss wot is it ? there's a parliment 
 men at same name, o think ; IMiss — Miss Cold- 
 well, is it ? nou, that's not it ; o have it at me tung 
 end : ]Miss — Miss — Bill dus'iit thah remember it ? 
 O, they call her. Miss — {serais his heead) Miss 
 — ]Miss — Mack summat, o think it is — 
 
 BiL — Macauley. 
 
 BiLLA — Aye, aye, tubbe shure, lad ; Macauley, 
 that's it : abodda awlis maks mooai- misses nor hits. 
 Han ya heeard her ? o siippooas shoo's grand. 
 
 Jack — Wa, if shoo can do 't wimmin onna good, 
 bless her, let her cum ; but o shud loike to ax her 
 a few quehstons abaht sum wimmin; — 1st, Whether 
 it is'nt unnatterable for a yoimg wumman to smook? 
 2nd, Wot's a man to do we his woife when shoo waint 
 be missis ? 3rd, Wots he to doo we her when shoo 
 will be't mester ? 4th, Whether a wumman 's onna 
 bisniss to toke aht on her kale ? -5th, Wot'st best 
 thing for a woman to wesli her mahth aht we, when 
 shoos dun swarin ? 6th, Wot'st reeason at sum 
 women's tungs an consciences is booath a length ? 
 7th, Whether it is'nt abominable to see a woman
 
 186 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 come woipiii her mahth aht an a gin-shop ? 8th, 
 Which ist biggist plague to a man, a scon din woif, 
 a dirty woif, or a gossapin woif; an whether ther's 
 oima cm-e fort first withaht lockin her jaws, fort 
 second withaht a pump, an fort third witliaht am- 
 putation. Nah, if shoo can ge us onna advoice 
 abaht these things, we'l groind her sithers for nowt. 
 Eho here's ahr mester. 
 
 Master — Has onna on yabeen to hear't Spring 
 street Philosophers yit ? O understand at they'n 
 fun it aht at the devil is'nt a loiar. 
 
 BiL — Wathen, if that's true, o'm quoit shure the 
 devil's best fellow it lot ; but o think between the 
 devil an them there's nooa choice, for they're all 
 loiars on a lump. 
 
 Master — 1 wonder what they would make of 
 subjects like the following : 1st, Whether infidels 
 do'nt hate the Bible for the purity of its contents, 
 more than because they believe it not true ? 2nd, 
 What is the reason that infidels love women and 
 wine more than divinity P 3rd, Whether an atheist 
 who ruins a female by seduction ought not to be 
 hanged ; and if so, how many are there in Sheffield 
 that would sv/ing ? 4th, Whether it would not be 
 advisable for all the adulterous atheists of both 
 sexes to form a colony, and live in common, hke 
 dogs ? 5th, Whether any other infidel in Sheffield 
 can knock his kept Mistress's eyes up so philo- 
 sophically as old did a few weeks ago ? 
 
 name to be mentioned when discussed. 6th, Whether 
 it is not reasonable to suppose, that if an atheist 
 lives like a brute, he will die like one ? 
 
 BiL — Well dun, mester; they're clois grain'dans.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 
 
 *' UPPA AHR HULL AE3T0N." 
 
 NO. III. 
 (From the "Annual" for 1838.; 
 
 MATRBIOXIAL DISCUSSION. 
 
 Fair woman was made to bewitch I 
 A pleasure, a pain ; a disturber, a nurse ; 
 A slave, or a tjTant ; a blessing, or curse ; — 
 
 Fair woman was made to be — ^which ? 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Wot, o say Jonna, thah't it 
 Bachelor's row y'lt, o reckon, arnt ta ? 
 
 Jonna — Sloik o am ; did ta thiuk o'd lost me 
 brains, an ad getn marrid ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy tbali sees, tliear's a menna quear 
 things happens e these gret tahns. But o say, 
 Jonna, wor ta nivver tutcht we luv? 
 
 Jonna — Hah dusta meean ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy o meean, did ta nivver see abeautiful 
 lassie, ast Scotch chaps says, " whose bright wild 
 innocence, when her soft sweet lips were curled into
 
 188 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 a smile," made lliee feel as if thah cud'nt tell hah 
 ta felt ? 
 
 JoxNA — Wa, o believe owonce felt rather queer 
 abaht one ; but wheu o thowt uppat after claps, it 
 went off. 
 
 BiL — Wot, thah wer afreead thah cud'nt keep 
 her, wor ta ? 
 
 JoNNA — Thah sees, mun, o begun a thinkin 
 abaht restless neets, liggins in, an liggins aht, doc- 
 tor's bills as long as me arm, shoos an clooas an 
 meit for hofe a duz'n childer, besoid a gud deeal a 
 trubble wit yung ans, an ten toimes mooar wit oud 
 ans. iNIoi stars an garters ! sitch loike thowts as 
 these freeten'd luv aht on me we a rattle, £ui o've 
 near been trubbeld we it sin. O mun, o lodged we 
 sum fooaks at that toime, wot ad hofe a duz'n on 
 em ; an o worfooast to leeav em, they kickt up sitch 
 rows, especially in a monin ; an o dooant loik to 
 be disturb'd, thah kno's. 
 
 BiL — Thah't a coward, Jonna ; but if thah wer 
 maiTid, thah wud'nt need to be thrustin't warmin pan 
 ethe bed ivveraneet'; thah wud'nt need to be lappin 
 hot bricks e flannel, to keep the feet warm. Ger a 
 woif, mun, an tlien thah'l have a warmin-pan au- 
 thorized booath be heaven an earth. 
 
 Jonna — A, wot a tail ahr cat's get'n ! Billa, 
 mo lad, thah says nowt abaht genin aht a bed in a 
 coud dark frosty neet, we a weet shirt, to gooa 
 dahn't stairs, to fetch't Godfrey bottle up ; — thali 
 says nowt abaht sittin up e bed it middle at neet 
 for two or three hahwers, nuddlin't choild e the 
 arms to cure it at belly-ake, an then gerrin aht a 
 bed agean, slippin the britches on, an gooin dahn't
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 189 
 
 stairs to blo't foir up, to mak a sup a gin punch for 
 the poor httle squeealer; an then thah taks him an 
 rocks him uppat chamber flooar, an wakkens the 
 next door nabur. O, it's vast noist for a fella to 
 be singin, " Rock-a-boo-babby, hg still we the 
 dadclv," at two o'clock it monin, when he owt to be 
 snoorin asleep. An besoide, all that is'nt t'warst ; 
 — ^^just nobbut think a gerrin aht an a warm bed, 
 when't wind's bloin a reggilar hurrikin, an't snow 
 dnftin enuifbooath to bloind an beny abodda, to 
 run whoil yer ommast brussen to fetch 't doctor (as 
 o've heeard em say t'next day,) an after a good 
 deeal a rattlin at door, an ringin at neet-bell, t' doc- 
 tor puts his heead aht at winder — " What do you 
 want," says he. O want yo to a labor. " To a 
 labor," croies't doctor, " why, I have not been in 
 bed more than half an hour. Where do you live ? 
 — what's the name ? Very well, I'll be with you 
 by-and-by." An then't poor fella wokes abaht, 
 stamps his feet, rattles his hands agean his soides, 
 euufi' to send his ribs in, — just to save him throo 
 bein starved to deeath. O say, this is savvora, is'nt 
 it ? — Cumforts a matrimonna, eh ? 
 
 BiL — A, oud chap, thah's a frosta soul ! Thah 
 must a been bred on a hoiceberg, born in a snow- 
 drift, an suckeld we ickles '^ Thee ivver toucht we 
 luv ! Nou, lad, Cupid's shafts nivver went skin- 
 deep inta thah coud composition, not they, maiTa. 
 But o say, thah owt to be't last to say owt abaht 
 gerrin u]) it neet. Hah menny toimes has thah 
 fun thesen hofe staiTed to deeath when thah's wak- 
 ken'd wit clooas kickt offa the ? A varra noist seet 
 to see a fella bloin a foir up it middle at neet, becos
 
 190 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 he cud'nt get na heat into his hoicy carcas e bed ! 
 An thah't trubbled wit neet mare, thah says. 
 Good stars ! wot a pickle, for a chap tubbe e bed 
 be his sen, strugghn under all't horrifoin sensations 
 at neet mare ! Sumloimes thah sees a gret riilT 
 fella cum intot chamber we a dagger in his hand 
 to murder the ; thah troies to shaht we all the 
 moit an main. Murder ! but toud mare has the fast ; 
 shoos lockt the jaws up ; an ihah mak'st dismalist 
 grumble, summat loik't rumblin of a earthquake, or 
 summat mooar horrable still. Thah trois to get up 
 an run tot winda ; but an enormous weight presses 
 thee dahn. Thah sees this ruffin at the bedsoid ; 
 thah sees him lift his murderous arm ; he stroiks ; 
 an then the struggle is too much for natur itsen. 
 Thah feels at the soids fort dagger ; but hickily for 
 thee, it went slap up tot hilt intot neet mare, an 
 shoo tumbled olfa the, an left thee just aloive, an 
 that's all. Wa then, thah'rt sii'iv.oimes in a field, 
 an a mad bull after thee; an ivvera toime thah 
 troies to run, the feet slips throo under thee, an 
 thah cahnt for the varra soul sturoilat spot, tillt bull 
 gets his horns in the rump, an wit mooast tremen- 
 dous rooar at ivver wer bellow'd, sends the whizzin 
 intot air; an just when tliaht thinkin a cummin dahn 
 agean, thah wakkens, in a muck sweeat thankful to 
 foind the sen e bed. O avver, o siiahnl wunder ift 
 oud mare dus'nt crush thee to deeath sum neet, if 
 thah dus'nt ger a woif to knock her ofFen thee. Bat 
 after all this, dus'nt thah kno at this world's 
 made up a contraries ; an at whether a chap be 
 single or dubble, he's shure to meet we a gad deoul 
 s trubble.
 
 TflK SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 191 
 
 JoNXA — Wa, o kno o kbur under a disadvaiilage 
 v»'e sleepiii be me sen ; but o think o'st get Tomma 
 Safesoides to sleep we ma. 
 
 BiL — O sliockin ! shockin ! sbockin ! ! — war an 
 war ! Wot, two bachelors e won bed ! Unnatter- 
 able ! monstrous ! Whooa can think a sitch a 
 thing withaht shivverin ; limbs tremblin ; teeth 
 chatterin ; (wo poor fellas frozen to deeatli e bed ! 
 There's nowt else for it. 
 
 Jo NX A — Abbut, mun, o've t' odds on thee in a 
 good n:ienny things, for all the noise. Thah moinds 
 it's easier to till one mahth e toime a bad trade, nor 
 hofea duz'n. O've nooa childer to heart-braik me we 
 rooarin for bred, when o've non to gee em. Mo 
 fammala's all under me hat, thah kno's, an o've 
 nobbada to grumble at me when o've a bad week ; 
 an o can goo aht when o loike, an goo in when o 
 loike, an o've nivver a mooaniin cooach curas to 
 fetch me throo't alehass; an o can have v>ot ivver o 
 loike, o'ther to lieit, drink, or ware ; an o can gooa 
 to bed when o loik, an o can get up when o loik, 
 (all but when o've t'neet mare,^ becoss o've nobbada 
 to hinder me. 
 
 BiL — Thah can gooa hooam when ta loiks, thah 
 says; and prethe wot cnmfort hesta when thah gets 
 there ? Thah's a sulky oud hahcekeeper, wot just 
 looks as pleasant as a mutticofe's dadda ; an oud 
 crabb'd, cross gTained cratch of an oud maid as 
 ivver werritted t' skin oiTen her booans, welcums 
 the hooam we a look enufi" to freeze one's varra 
 vitals. Oifto bed shoo gooas, an leaves thee to 
 cumfort the sen we a pot full o cowd porridge wot's 
 been made sum three or four bahwcr.s. But just
 
 193 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 look at a cu])ple at o can tell the on, if ta wants a 
 sample a wot they call connubial happiness. He 
 gooas hooam at neet, gets him wesht, sits him 
 dahn in his two arm'cl chair a won soide at table, 
 an his woife at tutlier ; shoo reiches him't baccaan't 
 poip, an draws him a glass at Norfolk brewery 
 best ; here's a cleean arston, an a cheerful loir ; he 
 looks in her face, " and the glance of her eyes 
 seems as mild as a summer morning breaking on 
 the earth, when the first rays of the sun shoot like 
 streaks of gold across the sea ; and her smiles shed 
 an angel influence over him, while the sweet out- 
 pourhigs of her mind, flow forth like a river, and 
 her wit plays like the ripple which the gentle 
 breeze makes to sport upon its bosom. While her 
 countenance beams smiles on his, and her curHng 
 lips whisper the softest music, they sit and look 
 into each other's eyes as if their Creator had given 
 nothing else worth looking at on this side of heaven. 
 Upon such a happy pair, age will descend im2:)er- 
 ceplibly, as the calm twilight of a lovely evening, 
 when the stars steal out, and the sunbeams die 
 away, as a holy stillness glides through the air, like 
 the soft breathings of an angel unfolding from his ce- 
 lestial wings the silken curtains of a summer night." 
 
 Call Woman angel, goddess, what you will, 
 With all that fancy breathes at passion's call, 
 With all that rapture fondly raves, and still 
 That one word, wife, outvies, contains them all. 
 
 It is a word of music, which can fill 
 The soul with melody, when sorrows fall 
 Round us like darkness ; and her heart alone 
 Is all that fate has left to call our own.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 193 
 
 JoNNA — Save us ! tliah must be inspired, or 
 else thah's been amang't Tales at Booarders. Bur 
 o avver, thah's made me feel rather funny. Bur o 
 say, is ther a good nienny wolves o that sooat ? 
 Becos o've heeard tell a drunken wolves, an nasta 
 dirty wolves, an scoudin wolves, an gossapln wolves, 
 an dishonest wolves, an wolves wots been crold 
 dahn bit bellman, an wolves wot can molnd 
 ivvera bodda's blsnlss but ther awn ; hah is It, 
 thinks ta, at a bodda dus'nt heear tell a mooar gud 
 ans ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy ol tell thee wot o think abaht it : 
 there's a varra menny nah days wots made into 
 wolves e ther veeal booans, an they contlnnle to be 
 co'ves allt days a ther lolves ; an there's thahsands 
 wots made bad wolves bit bad conduct o ther 
 husbands. What bisness has a chap at alehass 
 ivvera neet it week, when he's a wolfe wot ad be glad 
 on his cumpanna at hooam ? Its a soign he lolks 
 his point better nor his wolf. If he wants a sup a 
 ale, whoy dus'nt he have it at hooam, an let his 
 wolf enjoy booath it an him ? Wot did he tak her 
 for ? But e steead a this, he stays aht late, gets 
 drunk, neglects his wark, abuses her he pertended 
 to loik, — then there's black eyes an brokken booans, 
 povverta an rags cums In, an luv floies aht for Ivver. 
 O'st say't same as o've sed befooar, — ivvera mar- 
 rid man owt to luv his awn arston next best to his 
 wolf, an his wolf best of all ; an if he dus'nt, depend 
 on't there's nooa real happiness there. 
 
 JoNNA — Marra lad, o think all that sahnds to 
 sense. 
 
 BiL — O say this, — if a man has a luvvin affec- 
 o
 
 194 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 tioiiate v/oife, an can addle as much munna as al 
 keep him an his famala dacent an cumfortable, o 
 say that chap's jnst't happiest man uppa this cir- 
 chun globum. 
 
 JoNNA — O believe he is, oud lad ; an o wish o'd 
 one on em just nah. Wot dusta thmk abaht it. 
 Jack ? for thah says nowt. 
 
 Jack — Nou, mun, o've get'n tooth ake o'er 
 bad. 
 
 JooA — Thah has ? wa, o've just heeard on a 
 cure for it ; an if thah'l doo it, o'l forfeit mo heead 
 if i vver thah'st tooth-ake onna mooar. 
 
 Jack — Do it ? o'l do owt to be shut o'nt. 
 JooA — Wa then it fnrst place, thah mun cork 
 the throit up, an fill the mahth full at best creeam at 
 ta can ger oud on ; an then nock the heead agean 
 a wall till its all churn 'd to butter; an o'l warrand 
 that all killt nerve. iT, 
 
 Jack — Dusta meean till me heead's churn 'd to 
 butter, or t' creeam ? 
 
 JooA — Whoy, thah ma have the choice ; becos 
 o'ther al doo. 
 
 BiL — Soloman sed thear wer nowt new undert 
 sun ; but hark ya. O went tot doctor yisterda for 
 sum physic for ahr oud lass ; an whoil o wer waitin 
 in cams a wumman we a choild in her arms. " If 
 yo pleease, sur," says shoo," o've browt this choild 
 to see if ya can do it onna good." " What's the 
 matter with it, my good woman ?" sayst doctor. 
 " Whoy, sur," says shoo, " it's get'nt pain it box 
 vaiTa bad." " Pain it box, my good woman — pain 
 it box ! "Wliat do you mean by the pain in the 
 box ? — I never heard tell of the pain in the box
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. I9o 
 
 before. Can you tell me where its box is ?" sayst 
 doctor. " Vv'hoy, snr," says shoo, cla])pin her hand 
 uppat choild's brest, " its just sumwhere abaht here 
 o think." " Aye, aye," sayst doctor, '^you mean 
 its chest, don't you ?" " O dear yis sur, o'd for- 
 getten ; o thowt it ad been't box." 
 
 Jack — Wot wear bahn to have a national sys- 
 tem of eddication, ar'nt we ? 
 
 BiL — O reckon sooa; dustakno wot they're bahn 
 to lam em ? 
 
 Jack — Larn em i whoy they'l larn emjoggraffa, 
 an jommatra, an stromioma, an mathematticks, 
 an a mett-a-fizzicks, an akkosticks, an akkrosticks, 
 an cattoptricks, an dioptricks, an i-ro-glifEcks, an 
 jimnasticks, an heethicks, an i-drollicks, an new- 
 matticks, an statticks, an opticks, an rettricks, an 
 lodgicks, and all other icks. 
 
 JooA — Then it al be all uj) wit oud wumman 
 schools, o reckon ; for o expect childer al begin to 
 larn lodgic befooar they'n dun suckin, went nash- 
 onal system begins a commencin. 
 
 BiL — O'l sho the a sample of a oud lass larnin 
 a choild to spell Corner. An sooa thahmunjust 
 picter to the sen a oud stingy -lookin crater, we a 
 pair a specks on her nooas, an a stump on a rod in 
 her hand. 
 
 Missis — {points to a letter) Wot's that ? 
 
 Choild — O dooant kno. 
 
 Missis — C for Charley. Goose, dus'nt ta see ? 
 Wot'st next ? 
 
 Choild — Rahnd O. 
 
 Missis — Thah's guest it : wot'st next ? 
 
 Choild — R for Richard.
 
 196 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Missis — Ger on we the : wot'st tuther ? 
 
 Choild — Dubbleyoo. 
 
 Missis — Vonk we the, its no mooar loike a 
 dubbleyoo nor a cat's loike a magpoy. It's N, thah 
 slut. Wot's them two, eh, maddam ? 
 
 Choild — [We it finger in it eye) O dooant 
 kiio. 
 
 Missis — E lb elber an R for Bob, thah fiat; 
 thah'l ne'er lam nowt whoil ta lives. Nah then, 
 wot dun they all spell '? O say, C-0-R-N-E-R, 
 wot duz it spell ? 
 
 Choild — {Ommast heart hrokken) O dooant 
 kno. 
 
 Missis — [In a passion shouts) J^ooik, thah 
 nuvvis. 
 
 J 00 A — Toud lass had a new plate to spell boi. 
 But hark the; if thah'd a heeard wot o heeard 
 yisterda, thah'd a crackt the soides we lafEn. There 
 happen 'd to be a gret crahd a fooaks abaht a ale- 
 hass dooar ; sooa o axt oud schooilniissis wot 
 wer't matter ; an shoo turn'd up her tuther pair a 
 hoies — " A, bless ya," says shoo, " it's a woeful 
 job ! it'st crunner wot's houdin a conquest o'er a 
 man wot they'n fun deead." 
 
 Jack — Better still ; that's a bit a good Ello, 
 
 here's Jooa Guzzle cummin. Bil, ax him hah 
 long it is sin they burk'd him e Scottledon. 
 
 Bil — O say Jooa, is it true at thah'd loiken'd ta 
 been burk'd when thah wer e EdinbiuTo ? 
 
 JooA — Hah, beledda is it, lad ! bur o'l tell the 
 hah it wor. Thah sees, t' mester's son wot o work'd 
 for get marrid ; ■ an he geed allt men an ther 
 woives a reggilar good doo. Well, we get a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 197 
 
 proime dinner, an then we begun a driiikin 
 whiske)' toddy, an befooar dark sum on us begun 
 to see dubble, an soon after we cud'nt see at all ; 
 an o think it wer ommast Chrissmas. O went aht, 
 thinkin o'd fetch a cumrade a inoine, wot wer a 
 furst-rate singer ; but o had'nt gon far befooar 't 
 air an't wiskey laid me quoit enufi' it middle on a 
 square ; an hah long o laid there o cahnt tell ; but 
 o a wer, o wonit there wen o wakken'd, that's a 
 shure thing ; becos o fun mesen in a seek, we a 
 plaister all o'er one soid a me face. Its clear enuff 
 they ment to stop me breeath ; but e ther huriy 
 they'd left one comer a me mahth uncuvver'd; an 
 there o wor, throne in a corner in a proivate dis- 
 sectin room, we not a rai? a me back but me shnt. 
 When o fun o'd a plaister on me face, o made me 
 sen shure o'd been burk'd ; but wot sui-proised m.e 
 t' mooast, heeard em fiddlin an doncin it next 
 room ; an then o thowt at hah me shop-mates 
 ad been puttin't jooak on me ; nay, o thowt a 
 hunderd things at once ommast. O avver, o begun 
 to feel whear o wor (for o cud'nt see), an o had'nt 
 grooapt long befooar o laid bond on a chap's 
 nooas, as coud as hoice ; an o fun he wer as nake't 
 as ivver he wer born. There, says o, thah'l be 
 starved to deeath ; an o rowld him, an shakt him, 
 bur he wud'nt spaik ; an sooa o went grooapin on, 
 thinkin to foind a dooar, yo kno, an o fun one, an 
 they wer singin and don sin still ; but this dooar 
 wer fast enuff, an o'd nooa daht but this wer't dooar 
 at o'd been browt in at. Nab, then, wot mun e 
 doo, says o ; o cud'nt raitch t'winder, an it wer so 
 dark o cud hardla tell ther wor one, Nah it
 
 198 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 happen 'd at there vver a proivate dooar wot 
 went intot room where 't donsm wor; an o happen 'd 
 varra luckila to fomd it ; an as luck ad have it, 
 it had heen left unbolted. They'd gen ore fiddlin 
 nah, an o fancid they wer gerrin ther supper. Wa, 
 tliinks o, o'l holt reit slap in at wonce, an risk all 
 consequences ; an sooa in o went, but moi stars ! 
 booath them an me wer all scar'd aht an us wits. 
 There wer abaht eight or ten foine ladies, 
 wot had been'payin a visit tot doctor's woife; — but 
 O wot a seet ! table wer kickt ore in a jifia, an't 
 glasses, an't plates, an't tarts, wer sent e all direc- 
 tions. Sum fainted away, one fell in a fit, another 
 fell dahn it dooar steead, an two mooar fell at top 
 on her, e ther hurry to ger aht at gate ; an sooa o 
 jumpt o'er em all three, an ger aht as soon as o cud 
 foind t'way. O avver, o borrow 'd summada's whoite 
 shawl, an lapt me sen e that, for o thowt for sartin 
 o shud be starved to deeath ; an it rain'd an blew, 
 an it wer as dark as deaath. O avver, ojust turn'd 
 me heead to look vvhear o'd been, an a lamp tell'd 
 me o'd been in a dissectin room, an o shakt wit 
 thowts at o'd just mist bein cut up. But o wornt 
 to Stan still e that pickle, an o heeard a gret noise 
 at tuther sold at street, as if summada wer fallin 
 aht; soo o just went an hssen'd, an o soon fun it 
 aht at they'd been berrin summada that day wot ad 
 deed withaht a will ; an they wer ommast at feitin 
 which shud hav't mooast brass. Sooa o knockt at 
 dooar, an two or three on em cum to oppen it ; but 
 afooar o cud spaik, they ran screeamin, " Here's 
 me uncle in his grave-clooas ;" but tuther thowt at 
 they wer hooaxin em, sooa they cum, an o wer just
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 199 
 
 steppiii in. '' Oh !" says one, thah ma takt muuna 
 for me ;" but they wer all aht at back dooar in a 
 cupple a hofe shaks, an o'd I'hahce to me sen. Well, 
 thinks o, it al not do to stop here, for if t'watchmen 
 shud catch me, they'l tak me for a thief. Sooa o 
 drank a tumbler a pooart woine, wot wer stannin 
 uppat table, an oif o set, an as sooin as o'd get'n 
 aht at dooar, o heeard a watch croin't neet : thinks 
 o, o'l ax him whear o am ; an beiii withaht stocking 
 an shoos, o ger up to him befooar he seed me, an o 
 tapt him o'ert shoulder ; says o, " Wot part" — bur 
 he turn'd his heead, an afooar o cud ger another word 
 aht, he jumpt a yai'd hoigh — " Mm-der !" says he, 
 an his rattle fell aht an his hand, an he did'nt stop 
 to pick it up no'ther. Sooa o foller'd him, an o 
 shahted, " Stop, coward ;" bur he wanted none a 
 mo cumpana, an o'er a wall he went, an me after 
 him, an o jumpt bang uppen a drunken fella on a 
 diiferent kidney just then throo't watchman — " Ello, 
 ghosta," says he, " thah't a rare weight, but thah 
 mo'nt cum that ageean." Hali, lad, thinks o, it's 
 much if thah ar'nt plaister'd an in a seek befooar 
 long. O avver, o lost t'watchman, an o'd nooa 
 toime to spare to toke tot tuther chap, for o wanted 
 to be at hooam, an o wer rare an pleeased to see a 
 church wot tell'd me wheal' o wor. Xah, yo mim 
 understand, at t' hahce where we'd had us doo at, 
 wer reit at tuther soide at church yai'd; soo o jumpt 
 o'ert rails to cross it for't gainest. avver, we it 
 rainin so terrible fast, o just slipt intot church 
 pooarch to shelter a bit, an get me woind ; bur o 
 had'nt stood a minnit afooar o heeard summada tokin 
 a back at dooar it church, an one says tot tuther, " I
 
 200 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 say, Jem, we made quick return of that drunken 
 booby to-night." " Yes," says't tuther, *' I think we 
 had him stript, plastered, sacked, and in the dissect- 
 ing-room in twenty minutes : but it's doing business, 
 three in one neet, and I'll warrant it they're all 
 three in Glasgow in less than twenty hours." Gud 
 he wens, says o tumme sen, here's me murderers ! an 
 me bind iDoil'd e me vanes ; — o'l troi wot yer 
 made on ; o'm sober nah. Sooa o brissled up me 
 mettle, an just nah't door oppen'd, an aht cums 
 won we a body in a bag on his shoulder, an o stud 
 loik a statty, an in a low hollow tone o says. Can- 
 not the dead rest, an dahn he fell as if he'd been 
 shot, an't body at top on him; but as fort tuther 
 fellow, he cut back intot church, an whether he 
 wer scared aht on his \\-its or not, o cahnt tell ; o 
 avver o ne'er seed him. Nah, says o, o'l just sarve 
 yo aht : sooa o stri])t him, an put his clooas on 
 mesen, an o skitter 'dt body aht at seek, an popt 
 him in, threw him o'er mo shoolder and took him 
 where he took me. Sooa o call'd this human car- 
 cass dealer up, an teld him o'd browt a subject. Is 
 he dead or alive, says he : because I have had one 
 run away to night. {0 kno that, says o tumme 
 sen, but) whether he's deead or aloive o cahnt tell; 
 o've browt him aht at church yard, o can tell that, 
 an if yo do'nt loik him yo may tak him back 
 ageean. Sooa o cum an left him, an whether he 
 liv'd, or whether he deed, o nivver knew, nor nivver 
 Cired. 
 
 BiL — Thah sarved him just reit ; biter get bit'n. 
 But gooa on we the tale. 
 
 JooA — Wa, just when o wer cummin aht at doc-
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2()1 
 
 ter's, seed a lot a fooaks stannin abaht dooar wear 
 o'd beeiit ghost ; sooa o just stept o'er. Wotst 
 matter, gud fooaks, says o. Whoy, says won chap, 
 they'n been benin an oud man, wots deed wethaht 
 a will, an here's a lot on em wot wants lo wrong 
 sum childer aht a ther reits, an sooa 'toud man 
 cums ageean, an they'n agreed at childer should 
 hav it all ; but they durs'nt cum intot hahce, an 
 we're tentin it whoil mornin. Wa, that's just reit 
 says o; an o poked my hands into me new breeches 
 pockets fort furst toime, an walked off; but wot dun 
 ya think ? o slapt me hand ageean foive sovrins, 
 an o sung be joyful, an wer at hooam e nooa 
 toime, an sed nowt to nobbada whoil mornin. An 
 sooa yo seen, o get proice a me awii body, ant body 
 anole. 
 
 Jack — O say Fred, thah's het'n all that tommy 
 an ne'er sed grace. 
 
 Fred — Whoy they do'nt say grace to droi bred, 
 do they, eh ? 
 
 Jack — Hah, sloik they do, they owt to say 
 grace to ivvera thing. O've heeard tell on a chap 
 savan grace to a bishop, afooar nah. 
 
 JooA— Wot, wor he bahn to heit him ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy't bishop thowt sooa. 
 
 JooA — Hah wor it pre the ^ 
 
 Jack — Wa, thah sees, he wer cummin to con- 
 firm 't lads an lasses it parish, an sooa t' parson sed 
 to his man John, — John, we shall have the Arch- 
 bishop here to-morrow, and remember when you 
 are handing him out of his carriage, you must say 
 Your Grace. Very well sir, says John. Sooa 
 John practis't his grace all't ueet, forfreead he shud
 
 202 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 mak a blunder. O avver't next day cums't bishop, 
 an away John runs, oppens't carriage dooar, gets 
 fast houd on his arm, — " For wot o'm bahn to 
 receive, may o be truly thankful," says he ; ant 
 bishop stared at him, an twitcht his arm away. 
 " Why you are not going to eat me, 1 hope, are 
 you, John ?" an away intot parson's hahce be went 
 an teld em John had been say in his grace befooar 
 melt, an a rare lafFthev had on it.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 
 
 " UPPA AHR HULL AESTON." 
 
 NO. IV. 
 
 (From the "Supplement to the Annual" for 1838J 
 
 Jack — say, Bil, we're bahn to have a Lord 
 Mare e Shevvild, ar'nt we ? 
 
 BiL — O reckon we're bahn to have a mare we- 
 thaht a lord. Thah kno's, or else thah owt to 
 kno, at there's nobbut two lord mares, an won's at 
 York, an't tuther at Lmmun. 
 
 Jack — An a set a aldermen anole, ar'nt we ? 
 
 BiL — O gess we are. 
 
 Jack — An wot will they have to do ? 
 
 JooA — Heit turtle soop, an guzzle woine ; an 
 they'l be gi-et big fellas, we belhes loik hogsheeads, 
 an heeads loik boilers, an mahths wot ad swaller 
 a bottle a SheiTa before thah cud say Jack 
 Robmson. 
 
 Jack — An wot besoide ? 
 
 J 00 A — Whoy they'l mak thee an me pay for it, 
 reckon.
 
 204 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Webbut shahnt we be na better for bav- 
 in em ? they sen here is'nt tiibbe nooa lord 
 rnare's feeast, an sitcb loik, wethaht they payn for 
 it ther sens. 
 
 JooA — Better? hah, sloik we shall; if thah 
 gets drunk, an flops a watchman's een up, an gets 
 intot boil o'er it, whoy, thah'l get troid next day, 
 e steead a havvin to lig two or three neets undert 
 clock. 
 
 JooA Guzzle — That's worth onna thing. 
 
 Jack — O then, its fort bennefit at drunkards, 
 is it, at we're to pay two thahsand a year, eh ? wa, 
 o'm shure there's not a drunken thing it tahn but 
 wot al be varra much obleeg'd to these gentlemen 
 for it. 
 
 BiL — Wa, but ahr great larn'd men says at hah 
 it al be a good thing fort tahn ; at hah it al mor- 
 raloise us, an bring abaht household suffi'age, an 
 vooat be ballot, an o kno'nt wot besoid. 
 
 Jack — Well, well, if it al doo us onna good, 
 let's have a mare an a horse anole, nobbut tak good 
 care at mare dus'nt turn aht to be a ass ; for we'n 
 been ass't enuff". 
 
 BiL — Thah maks me think abaht mare a Don- 
 caster. He wer wonce roidin on a ass in a field at 
 ahtsoid at tahn, an a chap wot belong 'd field wer 
 cummin past, an seed him ; sooa when he ger intot 
 tahn, he met a lad wot went bit name a Soft Jack. 
 "Jack," says he, " there's a mare an a ass e mr) 
 field at tahn end yonder ; if thah'l fetch em aht, an 
 put em it pinfoud, o'l ge the sixpence. Sooa off 
 Jack set, we a good thick cudgel in his hand, an 
 intot field he went, an stared all rahnd, but cud'nt
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 205 
 
 see Lis gam ; till at last t' mare seed him starin 
 abalit, an axt him wot he wer seekin, " Whoy, 
 sur," says Jack, " Mr. Sharp's sent me to catch a 
 mare an a ass, wot he said wer e this field, an he'd 
 ge me sixpence : but o can see non on em," gays 
 he, vaiTa soiTowfully, for fread he shud'nt get six- 
 pence. " \Yhoy," says't mare, " thah flat, he 
 meeans me ; here. Jack, here's sixpence for thee." 
 Jack — T' oud mare had a bit a generosity abalit 
 her. 
 
 BiL — O say, Jooa, o wish thali'd gee us a sooat 
 an a runnin accahnt a thah travels after thah get 
 the discharge e Spain. 
 
 Jack — That's just wot o shud loik to hear; 
 becos o've heeard sed at hah thali wer wonce tain up 
 an put'n into a monastery, or t'inquisition, or 
 summat a that sooat. 
 
 Jooa G*uzzLE — It ommast maks me blud rmi 
 cowd to think ont ; but o avver, o've nooa object- 
 tion, as it al ge ya sum idea wot popery is e 
 vSpain. Get the poip let, Billa, an stmt foir up ; 
 clap a lump a coil on, an ne'er heed t' properoia- 
 tors. Wa then, o think when o get mo discharge, 
 we wer at a place call'd Talavera : an when o'd 
 rigg'd mesen aht we sum new clooas, o thowt o'd 
 set off for meny England. avver, as o'd tra- 
 vel'd a good deeal for summada's else's pleasure, 
 o ihowt o'd travel a bit for me awn nah ; an sooa 
 off" o set for Madrid, capital a Spain, to see wot 
 wer gooin off' there. Ahr fooaks wer varra vveel 
 off then, an they'd sent me plenty a brass, an a 
 small parcel a other little matters be a woine 
 marchant. After travellin a day or two o get to
 
 206 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 a place wot they call, the Monastery of San Lo- 
 renzo, abaht twelve o'clock at noon, where they 
 wer keepm't feeast at blessed Virgin, an t' pro- 
 cession wer jnst gooin rahnd. TTurst fellow it 
 lot earned a image, apparently made a gold ; two 
 monks, won a won soid, an't tuther at tuther 
 soide on him, caiTied a beautiful arch, hung we 
 bunches a grapes ; after these rode Don Francisco, 
 the Inquisitor General, an then monks, friars, an 
 nuns, withaht end. O observed at ivvera bodda 
 wot met em went dahn a ther knees whoil't Virgin 
 got past em : unluckily for me, o'd been havvin 
 sum wine wot made me feel rather merry ; sooa 
 o smoiled an walked on, withaht gooin dahn a me 
 knees ; — but oh, moi goodness ! they sooin sober 'd 
 me ; for foive or six fellows had houd on me in a 
 minnit, an o expected they'd a throttled me tliere 
 an then; an o fun me sen within t'walls at monastery 
 6 quick toime, where they blufted me, an led me 
 throo a varra long passage, then up sum woindin 
 stairs, into a gallara, as o thowt ; an o thowt for 
 sartm we shud near a dun gooin dahn steps, till at 
 last o heeard a boult on a dooar creeak, an't dooar 
 oppen, an in we went, an they fixt me feet in a 
 sooart an a clasp, an ged me oud on a rooap. O 
 axt em wot they wer balm to do we me ; but not a 
 word throo cummin in to this minnit. They took 
 me bluft off, an in a instant o disappeared ; dahn o 
 went, o shud think forta or fifty feet. O'd nooa 
 sooner left houd at rooap, but up it went, an dahn 
 went trap-dooar we a crash wot eckoed loik thunner 
 throo one end at dungeon tot tutiier. Nah o wisht 
 me sen it ridgiment ageean, an when o begun to
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 207 
 
 think a me perilous situation, o wer cumpletely 
 paraloized. O turn'd me hoies all rabnd, but not 
 a spark a leet cud o see. All wer as dark as dark- 
 ness at m/ight be felt, — the air coud an chilly — the 
 walls damp an sloimy — the fiooar vveet an filthy. 
 O walkt abaht ommast frantic, an menny a toime o 
 curst woiue an popery booath together. Sumtoimes 
 o shahted, bur o cud hear nowt but me awn dismal 
 wail eckoin throo't vaulted roof of this Spanish hell. 
 But o avver, after a whooal neet at mooast dreadful 
 forebodins, o wer deloited at hearin't trap dooai* 
 oppen, an't rooap let dahn : o instantly fassen'd 
 houd on it, an as soon o wer dra'.^-n uj) ; but 
 ommast afooar they'd landed me, they blufted me, 
 tho' this place wer as dark as pitch ; here they 
 stript me, an left me nowt but me shirt an belt ; 
 an when they'd put'n me their prison dress on, they 
 led me aht into a sooat on a chapel, wot wer 
 alreddy filled we lookers on, cum'd to see wot 
 punishment Virgin ad inflict on me fort insult 
 wot o'd dun her. They fixt me on a varra hoigh 
 seeat ; fair it front on me sat Don Francisco, 
 an a one soid sat friars, an at tuther soid monks. 
 Just nah there cums up to me a oud gTizly 
 faced friar, to infoiin me at mo punishment 
 would be decided bit blessed virgin. The Grand 
 Inquisitor wer to put it tot Virgin, whether tho 
 croime vronit tubbe punished wit rack ; an if shoo 
 assented shoo wer to nod her heead. All eyes 
 wer in a minnit turn'd towards a foine image at 
 Virgin. Don Francisco then made a long oration 
 abaht sinnm agean't Queen of heaven ; an when 
 he'd finisht his faiTago, he made his proposition to
 
 208 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 her, an strange to tell, shoo wud'nt nod. thowt 
 they sempt in a pucker a sum hah ; for Don Fran- 
 cisco shahted we all his moight, " Will the Queen 
 of heaven nod ?" A dead soilence then sempt to 
 pervade ivvera person present, an three or four 
 minnits pass'd in a suspense hetween life an death ; 
 hut still the Queen of heaven wud'nt nod ?" Wa, 
 then, hooath monks an friars croied aht, " Will the 
 Qneen of heaven nod ? — an just at this minnit a 
 fellow pull'd a curtain a one soide, an in a tremblin 
 voice croied aht, " The string's brokken." O seed 
 throo the craft in a minnit, an't guards took me 
 back to me doleful dungeon, blufted as befooai*. 
 Well, thowt o, wot a piece a j^opish trickery is this 
 to lak a man's loife away, an gull the people ! Wa 
 then, o woked abaht agean, an fun a step e one 
 corner. Thinkin there happen mut be summat 
 aboon, o ger onto it, an raicht me hands all rahnd 
 as far as o cud, an o felt summat soft an greeasy, 
 wot turn'd aht to be a torch fassen'd it wall. Nah, 
 it sooa happen 'd at o'd two or ihree a Jones's Etna 
 matches, at o awlis camd fassen'd to me belt; sooa 
 says o, o'l leet it, let consequence be wot it may. O 
 nipt me match, an let torch in a jiffa. Sooa nah 
 o begun to look I'ahnd me, an abaht foive yards 
 farther there wer another torch, an o let that; 
 an then o seed there wer torches fassen'd it 
 walls sail rahnd, an sooa o let em all ; an as 
 Jonathan Martin said, when he set t'organ a foir e 
 York Minster, o had a blessed blaze ; an o womt 
 long befooar o fun it aht wot they wer fixt there for. 
 Nah, then, o examin'd me lodgins ; an oh ! its 
 enuii" to mak abodda's flesh creep to think abaht
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 209 
 
 t' instruments a death kept in a inquisition;— iron 
 cages, massy chains, gibbets, gullotoins, gridoions, 
 cauldrons, slow foirs, rack wheels, pincers heated 
 red hot, to nip the flesh of heretics. In one place 
 wer a iron chair, fixt just belboar a furnace; in this 
 chau' the unhappy sufferer worfassen'd, the crahn of 
 his heead shaved, an coud waiter droppin on it, whoile 
 he wer ommast rooasted wit foir at same time. An 
 when o begun to think which a these tortures would 
 end mo miserable existence, me heart sicken 'd, an 
 o fell ommast senseless uppat gi'almd. O avver, 
 when cum to me sen agean, o heeard ti'ap-dooar 
 oppen, an dahn cums a square booard, we a small 
 chain at ivvera corner ; on it wer a small flickerin 
 lamp, a pitcher a waiter, an sum. mat at they call'd 
 bread. O drankt waiter gi-eedily, but o cud heit 
 non a ther bread, an sooa they drew it up agean, 
 but trap-door did'nt fall dahn as befooar, an o cud 
 hear't guards tokin vai-ra hard, but wot they said o 
 j cud'nt tell : but e abaht ten minnits a pair a iron 
 I dooai's flew oppen at far end at cell, an in cums 
 I Don Francisco, be a subterraneous passage, we foive 
 monks, all carryin wax candles e ther hands. 
 sat still, an waited on em cummin up, 
 when the Inquisitor-general broke soilence, — 
 " ^Vliat means the blazin of these torches, siiTah ?" 
 " If yer Holiness al lend me yer hearin for a min- 
 nit, o'l acquaint ya we wot o kno abaht it (but thah 
 kno's o cud loke foiner then). O'd been prayin 
 tot blessed Virgin for foiu- hahwers at shoo'd pardon 
 me sin, an at last an appearance bright as't sim 
 came an stood afooar me, an said, ' Man, thou art 
 ! forgiven, sin no more,' an instantly shoo set aU 
 p
 
 210 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 these torches a hlazin withaht onna foire, an then 
 vanisht away." The Inquisitor then turn'd up his 
 eyes, an said as near as o cud catch, " O Queen of 
 heaven ! what thou loosest on earth, let no man 
 bind." They then led nie away throo this rooad 
 wot went under grahnd, an took me into a beautiful 
 chamber, browt me clooas, an then took me intot 
 heitin hahce, an set befooar me ivvera thing at me 
 heart cud wish for, — ged me me munna back, an a 
 good deeal mooar to it, an teld me if o'd a moind 
 to stojD we em, o shud hve loike a gentleman. 
 8ooa o staid a whoil we em, an it went all o'ert 
 country loike woild-foire ; for throo Catalonia to 
 Cape Finisterre, it wer kno'n at the Virgin had 
 made her aj^pearance in the room of discipline 
 at San Lorenzo, an had let up all the torches 
 withaht foir. Don Francisco took care at torches 
 ne'er went aht ; for the dupes sooin begun a cum- 
 min e drooaves a pilgrimagin, to pay their devo- 
 tions an their contributions tot blessed Virgin ; an 
 a van-a foine thing Don Francisco made on it. O 
 avver, o thowt after all his goodness tumme, it wer 
 his intention nivver to let me leave em. Be that as 
 it may, o took me opportunity won day, when they 
 wer all performin hoigh mass', an set off for Lisbon, 
 glad to get aht an his clutches. 
 
 BiL — A varra foine specimen at muther chetch, 
 that is. 
 
 J 00 A Crocus — Abbut Popery's not same here, 
 thah kno's. 
 
 Jack — Nou, an o don't think a bit better on't 
 for all that. Popery's made loik a nooase a wax 
 nah days, wot ma be made to suit onna face ; it's
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 211 
 
 made to suit onna cantra. — Webbut hah went ta on 
 at Lisbon ? 
 
 JooA — Whoy, think thear wer nowt wortli 
 telhn took place, till o'd getn a menny moils thro(» 
 Vendas Novas, when o happen 'd tubbe benighted, 
 an lost me way. O wandered menny a moil, till at 
 last o seed a leet at a distance ; sooa o made too it 
 we all't haste o cud. When o got up to it o knockt 
 at dooar, but nobbada came ; o knockt agean, but 
 nobbada came still ; at last, after a whoil, a woman 
 came tot dooar, an oppen'd it ; but shoo seem'd 
 mooast terrably freeten'd, an did'nt spaik a word. 
 Sooa o axt if a traveller wot ad lost his way, could 
 have shelter for a neet ; when a voice from within 
 invited me foiTad ; sooa o went in, when a oudman 
 wot sat in a corner spake ; — " Friend," says he, "be 
 who thou wilt, the hospitality oftliis house is atthv 
 service ; you are welcome here, and may the saints 
 protect us ! But," continued he, " 1 imagine vou 
 will not much loik sum company wot we're expect- 
 ing here ihis night." Thinks o tmmne sen, am o 
 balm tubbe in anuther mess to neet ? " Whooa are 
 ya loikla to have," says o. " Whether it be safe to 
 trust a stranger when a cuntry's full a inquisitorial 
 spies, is not so clear," says't oud man. " O'm nooa 
 way desoirous to kno sacrets ; but sin yo'n been so 
 koind as to tak me in, an ge me shelter, o will say 
 this, at if onnabodda's cummin here, wot yo'd ra- 
 ther be sumwhere else, if it be the great muckle- 
 horn de'il his sen, o'l have a rap at him." Sooa 
 we this, t'oud man's confidence wer a bit streng- 
 then'd, an he began to tell me wot wer up. — Says 
 he " We've had won at inquisitors here, to demand
 
 •212 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 a certain sum a muiina for the use of the churchy 
 and the absolution of all us sins, an if it womt 
 tain to a sartin place abaht hofe a moil off last 
 neet, befooar twelve o'clock, at the church ad give 
 us all up to the d — 1, tubbe felcht away to-neet, at 
 exactla twelve o'clock ; an we 'en all been freeten'd 
 aht an us wits ivver sin." Wa, says o, did ya tak 
 all they wanted ? " Nou," says t'oud man, " nor a 
 quarter ; but we took all we cud get ; but we kno 
 we mun gooa to neet; fort church's wants is vaiTa 
 urgent." Well, says o, let him cum ; its non at 
 inquisitor, says o, depend on't ; it's sum vagabond 
 beggin friar, wot wants to scar ya aht on yer mun~ 
 iiy ; an o toked to em whoil they wer ommast 
 perswaded it wor sooa : sooa they agreed at o shud 
 just doo as o thowt proper. Well, o get a gud 
 strong rooap, an o made a snoose at won end, an 
 threw it o'er a high biiwk, wot went just o'ert door, 
 an at back at door o took me station. Sooa at 
 twelve his sooty majesty cums, oppens 't door, 
 an walks in. O pops t' snoose o'er his horns, an 
 drew him up in a jiffa ; an when o'd get'n him up, 
 he dropt aht'n his skin, au begg'd vaiTa tenderly 
 for his loife ; for o held me pistol to his brains, an 
 teld him if he sturr'd a limb o'd bio em ah't, if he 
 held onna. O avver, o made him pay t' munny 
 back wot he'd getn, an o kickt his monkish rump, 
 an sent him abaht his bisniss. Sooa then we all 
 went to bed ; ant next day o set off for Lisbon, an 
 throo there o set sail, an landed e England ; ant 
 furst neet o put up at a alehass abaht a dozen moil 
 offat sea-shore ; an it cooarse at conversation (for 
 there wer a gud deeal a cumpana that neet), they 
 begun a tokin abaht ghosts an sitch loik ; an o
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 213 
 
 happen 'd to say at o nivver wor scar'd at owt e me 
 loif. " Wa," says t' lanlord, " yo'n a chonce to tr\' 
 yer cuiTage to-neet if ya loikn ; there's an oiid 
 cassle at top at hill, wot's been honted this tifty 
 years, an o'm authorised bit lord at manor to give 
 onna chap foive guineas an foive bottles a woine, 
 wot al spend one neet in it. " O'm yer man," 
 says 0, " foive bottles a woine al face all't ghosts an 
 goblins e all't oud cassles it country. But is ther 
 a bed," says o. " As gud a one as ivver't king roll'd 
 in," says he. Sooa off we set, we ivvera thing at o 
 wanted, an all't cumpana we us, to see me safe in ; 
 an o wer pratta sooin e one at cassle chambers, we 
 me poip e me cheek, an a bottle befooar me. Well, 
 emtid one bottle, an then thro'd me sen on tot 
 bed, an slept for abaht four hahwers, when o wer 
 wakken'd be a varra hollow, mooanin sooart on a 
 noise; sooa o jumps up, taks me dagger e won 
 hand, an a candle it tuther, an away o went, dahn 
 sum woindin stairs into a gret big room, an here o 
 stood ; an dhectla t' sahnd cum ageean, an then 
 another uppen a hoigher key. then seed exactla 
 where it cum throo ; o wer shure a me gam, an o 
 sent me dagger reit up tot hilt throo sum cur- 
 tains, an there o left it, an went an rowld me sen 
 ontot bed, an slept as sahnd as a top till day-leet 
 next momin, when hofe at fooaks at village wer 
 cum to see if o wer aloive. O went uppat turret 
 walls, an tell'd em o'd kill'd ghost ; sooa in they 
 cum, an they pull'd screen dalm, an beheen't cur- 
 tains wer sum poips belongin to a oud fammala 
 organ, at when't t'wind blew throo 't oud cassle walls, 
 it get into these ghostly ban-els, an freeten'd all't 
 fooaks it parish for a centery past.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 
 
 " UPPA AHR HULL AESTON." 
 NO. V. 
 
 (From the " Annual" for 1839.; 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Nah Jack we'n varra near 
 getn to another Christmas. Wot's to be't subject 
 fort Annual, thmks ta, eh ? 
 
 Jack Wheelswakf — Wa, o rala dont kno wot 
 its to be ; not becos o'm fast for won, but becos o'm 
 ommast fast it choice a won. 
 
 BiL — Well, hasta nowt to say abaht politticle 
 world ? Thah kno's we're bahn to have yuniversal 
 suilridge, an sitch loik. 
 
 Jack — Yuniversal fudge ! Yuniversal suiliidge 
 an yuniversal suffrin is terms booath aloik. But 
 no mooar a this ; o hate seet o pollitics. 
 
 BiL — Well, will ta have morals ? 
 
 Jack — O'l not have Robin Owen's morals, at 
 onna rate. 
 
 BiL — Will ta have phy sicks ? 
 
 Jack — If thah'd mo doctor's bill to^ pay this
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 215 
 
 Chrismas, thah'd think o'd had physick enuff 
 already. 
 
 BiL — Well, then, here's divinity ? 
 
 .Tack — That's to sublime. 
 
 BiL — Astronomy ? 
 
 .Jack — That's to high. 
 
 BiL — Geology ? 
 
 Jack — That's to low. 
 
 BiL — Mettaphysicks ? 
 
 .Jack — That's to hard. 
 
 BiL — Phrenology ? 
 
 Jack — That's to soft. 
 
 BiL — Will ta have mathematics ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, that's to puzzlin. 
 
 BiL— Optics i' 
 
 Jack — That's to dazzlin. 
 
 BiL — iErostation ? 
 
 Jack — That's to flighta. 
 
 BiL — Steam-ostation ? ' 
 
 Jack — That's to smooka. 
 
 BiL — A, thali flat, there's na smook e s tee am. 
 
 Jack — Abbut, there is e gettin it up. 
 
 BiL — Sharp an ! Witta have anattoma ? 
 
 Jack — Horrible ! 
 
 BiL — Well, thah't a rum an, then. O move 
 
 ihah wroits the loif. 
 
 Jack — There may bea gud deal on it to cumyit. 
 
 BiL — O meean that wot's past. 
 
 Jack — An prethe wud ta have me to tell't 
 truth ? 
 
 BiL — Tubbe shm-e ; why not ? 
 
 Jack — Abbut o shud'nt loik. An besoid there's 
 a gud deeal a mo loif wots not worth kno'in ; an
 
 216 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 if wer to tell wot is worth kno'in, nobbada ad 
 believe it ! an sooa wot'st yuse ? 
 
 BiL — There may be sum truth e that ; but thah 
 kilo's when they wroit'n men's loives they awlis 
 tak gud care to let em seet breet sold on em : theyn 
 awHs sooa menny gud things to tell, at it ad be 
 ommast impossible to thrust a bad an in edge way. 
 
 Jack — Then o'm not to say iiowt abaht me bad 
 actions, eh ? 
 
 BiL — Nou, its not worth whoil. 
 
 Jack — Then mo loif al be a short an, if o'm to 
 tell nowt but me gud ans, for o cahnt remember 
 menny. 
 
 BiL — Well, well, ne'er heed, let's have em, an 
 we'll tak em just same as men tak ther wolves, for 
 better or war. Thah's had a gud menny ups an 
 dahns e thah bit a toime at o kno on ; an for mo 
 part o cahnt see whoy a poor man's loif shud'nt be 
 WTitten as weel as a rich man's ; an o'm shure 
 there's been a gud deeal a variety e thoine ; sooa 
 o hooaj) thah'l commence beginning at for-snd 
 furst, an let's have the pedigree an all abaht it. 
 
 Jack — Thah tokes abaht me pedigree as if o had 
 won. can tell the van*a little abaht it, though o 
 understand at ahr fammala at furst came aht aWales 
 becos they sen ahr's is a welsh name ; but it seems 
 rather odd at a Welsh name shud have so much 
 watter in it. Menny a Welsh gowky cames his 
 pedigree up to Adam an Eve it garden o Paradise, 
 an if ahr fammala cum throo Wales, o'm shure 
 sum gret king or other wer mo ancestor, tho o'm 
 not much troubled at o dooant kno whooa he wor. 
 But o avver, o'm quoit shure mo fath'er wornt a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 217 
 
 Welshman, nor his father nother, nor his father's 
 gronfath 'er, an hah menny gronfath'er's we niut 
 reckon befooar we o-et to us Welsh oTonfath'er, o 
 cahnt tell ; sooa withaht gooin back tot creation, or 
 even tot Domesday book, to seek us origin, o'st just 
 say at o've every reeason to believe at mo father 
 wer bom at their hahce, abaht two moil off a Pom- 
 fret cassle, an wer crissen'd after me gronfather, 
 but not bit same name ; an o believe at he lived we 
 his father an muther till he left em, an then lie 
 went an Hved sumwhere else, where he begun a 
 snudgin after a fanner's dowter, till he snudged her 
 tot church ; an after a whoile o came tumblin uppat 
 stage a loif, shakt intot world be a earthquake, for 
 o've heeard em say at that neet o wer born, tiiey 
 felt bed shak under em ; an't furst thing o did, o 
 begun a suckin me muther, an after that me fath'er. 
 
 BiL — Hah, there's nooa wunder on the bein sitch 
 a rum stick ; thah cum intot world in a rum fashon 
 seeminly. It wer vaiTa odd, an thah's been odd 
 ivver sin, an o expect thah'l awlis remain odd ; — 
 but gooa on. 
 
 Jack — Wa, o think o ma say at hah- we'n seen 
 sum sarvice sin ahr matrimonial ship set sail o'er 
 life's wide sea ; we'n had menny a tempestuous 
 neet, an menny a tremendous storm had spent its 
 fury uppen us little bark, an menny a prahd wave 
 has threttened to send us dahn to Davy Jooans's 
 locker; — sumtoimes we'n been saihn in a fog, an 
 did'nt know whether we vver gooin reit or wrang ; 
 an then there's been a hurrakin, an we'n been driven 
 befooar 't stonn, tost up an dahn wit fury a booath 
 wmd an sea, whoile we'n be lasht be faith tot main-
 
 218 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 mast, up yonder, thah kno's, an gret big billows has 
 rould ore us little ship; an then there's been a 
 deead calm, an we cud nother get won way nor 
 another ; an just when we'd given up all for lost, it 
 clear 'd up, a providential snn burst forth we all his 
 glory, an dispersed these bewildering fogs, an't 
 winds an waves wer hush'd to sleep ; an nah we 
 seem to sail away just as sweetly as't Waterwitch 
 glides dahnt Humber on a bright summer's day, 
 when weather an wind an waves conspire to speed 
 her course, an waft her swiftly o'er the beautiful 
 face of the dark gi-een sea. 
 
 BiL — Hah, that's all varra foine figurin, but o 
 want the to gooa on wit particulars. 
 
 Jack — Nay, lad, not sooa, o cahnt stummack 
 tokin abaht me sen no'ther. O've dun. 
 
 BiL — Wa, then, o'l toke abaht the. 
 
 Jack — Abbut thah kno's nowt. 
 ' BiL — Yabbut o doo, a good deeal mooar nor 
 thah't aware on. 
 
 Jack — Dusta kno owt wots good abaht me ? 
 
 BiL — Yis o do. 
 
 Jack — Can ta tell me wot wert best thing at 
 ivver o did e me loif ? — o meean to me sen. 
 
 BiL — Hah o can. 
 
 Jack — Wot wor it ? 
 
 BiL — Gerrin married. 
 
 Jack — Thah'sjust guest it. 
 
 BiL — But o say thah wer ])ut prentis to a elsin 
 makker, wornt ta ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, to be shure, thah kno's that. 
 
 BiL — Hah, an o kno at thah wonce perswaded 
 won at prentices to tee a piece a band to his gret
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 219 
 
 tooa, an put it aht at garret window, for thee to call 
 him up at two o'clock it monin ; an o kno at yore 
 missis got ouJ on it, an ommast pull'd the poor 
 fellow's tooa off; — is'nt that true ? 
 
 Jack — Yali, but hah did thah get to kno ? 
 
 BiL — O near heed. But o say dusta remember 
 owt abaht them cats, eh ? 
 
 Jack — Cam, cum, thah mo'nt tell that, o av- 
 ver ; prentis lad's tricks dus'nt owt tubbe made 
 public. 
 
 BiL — O that's all fudge ; it ad ge fooaks a idea 
 wot sooat a wags yo wor. 
 
 Jack — Thah mo'nt tell it. 
 
 BiL — Thah'l no'ther toke the sen, nor let me 
 toke. Tell ns abaht that schooil wot thah yust to 
 gooa to e that garret thah kno's, uppat Wicker 
 brigg. 
 
 Jack — Hah, that's intellectual, o loik that ; that 
 gan-et's sweet to mo recollection ; joinin that soci- 
 ety wert second best thing at ivver o did. 
 
 BiL — An wot did ya study, prethe ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, grammar, logic, ontology, an 
 theology, an a bigger thickheead e general know- 
 ledge nivver existed nor o wor afore o went there ; 
 but had'nt been amang em long befooar o wer't 
 senior wrangler, an cud measure tungs we onna on 
 em ; but mo fav'rite study wer metaphysics. 
 
 BiL — O then, that's just reason at thah's awHs 
 been able to kick t'infidels abaht sooa. 
 
 Jack — Egzactla ; for o begun a readin an 
 thinkin till ahr oud lass thowt o shud gooa crazed ; 
 becos won momin, wen we w^er gettin as brekfast, 
 an o wer thmkin vaiTa deeply, shoo axt me to reyk
 
 220 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 hert' bread an butter, an o reykt her t' kettle. Hah 
 says shoo, yo'l soom be offa yer heead ; but o avver 
 me heead's on yit, an its best at ivver o had e all 
 me loif ; an o've been readhi an thmkin an workin 
 ivver sin, an o'm sahnd yit (thanks for it,) booath 
 wind, limb, an oye-soight. 
 
 BiL — An wot sooat a books has to read ? 
 
 Jack — For what o call loight readin, Tom 
 Hickathrift, Sinbad the Sailor, an 
 
 BiL — [Interruptin him'] Cum, cum, non a 
 the gammon, o mean what metaphysical works has 
 ta read ? 
 
 Jack — Oh ! whoy, sitch as Drew, Brown, 
 Stewart, Reid, Locke, an that set; but there's a 
 book written be Alexander Keith, uppa Prophecy ; 
 if ta wants to see infidelity smasht to shivvers, read 
 that. 
 
 BiL — An wot infidel authors has ta red ? 
 
 Jack — Silly oud Mirabaud, Volney, an that sca- 
 venger Tom Paine, an Durty Dick, an last of all, 
 poor oud crazy Owen. Sooa thah sees, we kno'n 
 all't gang on em, an can rattle us intellectual musher 
 abaht ther external circumstances whoil they croy, 
 "Hold of!" 
 
 BiL — But thali hasn't teld us yit wot thah'l hav 
 for the next Annual ? 
 
 Jack — Wa, theres's been a meetin at gossips 
 at Sally Slutterdish's, an o've get'n a full, true, an 
 particular accahnt of all't proceedins, an if yo'n a 
 moind to hear em, o'l read em ya. 
 
 BiL — Cum then, let's have em.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT- 221 
 
 AT A MEETIN OF THE GOSSIPS, 
 
 (mally mexdxowt, chaieman-,^ 
 
 Which took place August 32iid, at the house of 
 Sally Slutterdish, it wer yunaiiimously resolved, 
 at a petition shud be sent tot Queen Victoria, 
 for betterin't condition of all her female objects; 
 mooar particularly, to lessen ther labour, an 
 prevent em from ill usage ; at which meetin the 
 foUerin worthies wer present ; viz., Dolly Doo- 
 little, Sally Slutterdish, Dinah Dubble-tung, 
 Betty Long-tung, Suke Slippvtimg, Sally Wag- 
 jaw, Nanna Frumper, an Ruth Runagate. 
 
 MooAST Gracious QuEE>r, — We, yore mooast 
 humble sai'vants, at tuther sex, yo kno'u, begs 
 leave to lig befooar ya sum a are grievances, it 
 hooaps, as yo yer sen is a wunmian, at yo'l tak em 
 all into yore consideration when yo'n seen em. 
 Bless yer soul, mo la.^s, yo kno'n nowt ; — we're 
 abused scandillous ; us husbands has no mooar 
 feelin for us nor brutes. Yo ma depend on't, we're 
 yused ten toimes war nor slaves ; we're nocktun kickt 
 anclamm'dan starved, — a dear, a dear ! shurely yo'l 
 have better luck nor we'n had, or else yo'd better 
 nivver be married. We'n nivver a bit a toime to 
 spare to gooa aht a bit, an if we had, we'n nowt to 
 gooa in ; there's nobbut won bonnet amang seven on 
 us, — tuther 's all at us uncles. Wa then, we'n to 
 wesh all us awn things for all us famalies, withaht 
 nobbada to help us, an yo kno'n yer sen at hah it's 
 not a loikla thing where there's foive or six childer; 
 an wot mavs it war nor all besoide, if we hav'nt
 
 222 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 dun weshin afooar noine o'clock at neet, when 
 he cums hooam we getn a gud blackin, an 
 a good thumpm if we sen owt : all which we 
 think is'nt bearable. An then agean, if we 
 happen to be in a neighbour's hahce iiursin when 
 he cums hooam, an't dinner is'nt just ready 
 to stuff in his mahth, wa then we drop intot suds 
 agean ; at yo ma see hah it is weel enuff. An sooa 
 withaht sayin onna mooar, (for yo kno'n, we nivver 
 loike to say much,) yo mim look at ahr petition, 
 an we hooap at yo'l gTant us all we want, an then 
 we'st be better off, an we'l sing. Long live Victoria, 
 till we strein us ankle. 
 
 Wa then, t'furst thing at we'st ax for al be, at 
 there shall nobbut be won weshin day in a munth, 
 an if ther shirts gets nasta, they may turn em ; an 
 at ivvera wuinman wots a choikl to nurse under two 
 year oud, shall have a w^esherwoman to help her. 
 
 2. At yo'l be pleeased to appoint a flooatin 
 parish weshin masheen, becos yo knone when ween 
 to Stan it steeam, an then gooa an hang a basket 
 full a clooas aht to droy, we varra oliens catch 
 cowd in us brests, yo knone. 
 
 3. At yo'l be pleased to put a duty uppa all 
 ruffled shirts, an plated dickies, an sitch loik, sooa 
 that it may doo away we a deeal a proide, yo 
 knone. 
 
 4. At yo'l tak into yore consideration the present 
 varra laborious system of manglin, which is varra 
 destructive to ahr coni^titution, besoide varra offens 
 been fooast to wait a long whoil for a kail, which 
 is quoit as destructive to ahr patience ; an at yo'l 
 appoint a parish mangle to gooa be steeam, or onna
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 223 
 
 Other way at yo ma think fir, nobbut dooant let's 
 have it to turn. 
 
 5. As there's ivvera reeason to believe at there's 
 been ten toimes mooar lasses knees lamed we 
 kneelin to scrub flooars nor we kneelin to sav ther 
 prayers, we beg at yo'l mak it into a law, af throo 
 this toime, henceforrad, an for ivver, all flooars 
 shall be wesht we a mop, not mooar nor twoice a 
 week, nor less nor wonce. 
 
 6. At all pots, plates, dishes, cups an saucers, 
 pans an panshons, an ivvera thhig wots used o'ther 
 e heitin or drinkin, shall not be wesht mooar nor 
 tNvoice a week, an then they shall be tain tot dyke, 
 becos uppat present system there's sooa menny 
 gets brokken. - 
 
 7. At yo'l bo pleeased to tak a gret deeal a 
 wark aht an as hands, be appointin a parish oven, an 
 a parish boiler, at we ma bake all us bread e won, 
 an boil all us dumplins it tuther. 
 
 8. At all winders shall be clean'd once a munth, 
 an not mooar iior twoice, there's so menny panes 
 gets brokken we rubbin em ; an at all't ahtsoids shall 
 be wesht bit watter ingens at public expense. 
 
 9. At yo'l be so good as to consider at hah't 
 vvimmin'st wakest vessel, an's nowt to defend 
 ther sens we but ther tung ; an therefooar we 
 think it nowt but reit at yo'l pass a act at ivvera 
 wumman shall be allow'd to spaik twoice to her 
 husband wonce. 
 
 10. As yo ma be cpioit shure where there's a gret 
 family a childer, a wumman 's loik tubbe varra 
 throng in a monin ; an that bein't case, we beg 
 at hah yo'l order at ivvera man shall get up furst
 
 iS4 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 when they cahnt aifooad to keep a sarvant, an kindle a 
 foir, set kettle on, an tak hisbrekfast tot shop we hhn. 
 
 11. At nooa man shall be allow'd to thump his 
 woif for bein aht went dinner owt tubbe ready ; be- 
 cos we're ofFens call'd aht to look at badla childer, 
 an sitch loik. 
 
 12. At nooa man shall be allow'd to mump 
 his woif when be chonce shoo happens to get a sup 
 to much; becos shoo'st wakest vessil, a little sup 
 does it. 
 
 [As sooin as this 12th article wer mention 'd, ahr 
 repooarter infonns us at it varra near proved fatal 
 tot whooal consarn ; for there happen 'd tubbe two 
 on em sat on a chair wot wer dubbled dahn, an won 
 on em had a choild on her knee ; went tuther, we 
 bein so pleased we hearin this article, jumpt up in 
 a rhapsody, an dahn went t'oud mother, " rowlin 
 acrost flooar loike a gret fat porpus in a storm, 
 whoil't choild tumbled neck or nowt reit slap intot 
 asnook. Here wer a foine seet, if yo'd nobbut seen 
 it ; — t'oud lass rooar'd aht, an't choild screeam'd it 
 een up ; two or three on em wer fit to brust we 
 laffin, whoile two or three mooar wer getherin't oud 
 lass up. Just at this instant a fellow oppens't 
 dooar, an looks in ; — " that's a glorious subject for 
 a })ainter," says he ; but he had'nt getn't words aht 
 an his mahth befooar Salla Slutterdish had t' dish- 
 claht in his eyes, an Dinah Dubbletung sent t'wat- 
 terdish at his heead, but it slipt aht'n her hand, an 
 went smash throotwinda; sooawotv*on thing an wot 
 anuther, there wer sitch a noise ixn bussle an scuffle 
 as he neer seed. Wa then to mend t 'matter they 
 fell a fallin aht ; her wit choild sware t'tuther get
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 225 
 
 up a pui^DOs to sarve her aht becos shoo wod'nt 
 let her have no muck brass ; o avvert tuther de- 
 clared her innocence, an sooa in a bit a toime they 
 made things ujd an went on we ther wai'k.] 
 
 13. At nooa marrid man shall be aliah'd to go 
 to onna cuntry feeast, or onna fair, or onna club- 
 feeast, or onna lozin, or tot Horticulteral Bottanicle 
 Gardens, or to onna other place of amusement 
 wot ivver, wdthaht takkin his woif we him ; becos 
 if he shud tumble dahn, shoo cud pick him up 
 agean. 
 
 14. At nooa marrid man shall goda onna where 
 withaht tellin his woif where he's bahn, an then 
 shoo'l kilo where to foind him ; becos hah can he 
 tell wot ma happen ? an at he shall nivver no 'ther 
 buy nowt nor sell nowt withaht tellin his woif, becos 
 two heeads is better nor won, if they be but sheep 
 heeads. 
 
 15. At ivvera marrid man shall awlis at all times, 
 an e all places, an under all circumstances, whether 
 e public or proivate, whether asleep or wakken, 
 whether at hooam or abrooad, do all at ivver lays in 
 his power to mak his woif doo as shoo loiks, becos 
 shoos all't cumfort he has e this world. 
 
 16. At ivvera marrid wumman shall have three 
 days a week for her awn pleasure, an tuther three 
 to doo as shoo loiks in, an to have her share a Sun- 
 day besoide. 
 
 17. At nooa marrid wumman wot's a famala a 
 fore childer shall mend o'ther stockins or shirts or 
 onna other warable article, but that all this sooat a 
 wark shall be dun bit parish, becos shoos enuff to 
 doo to tak care at childer.
 
 226 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 18. At ivvera marrid woman shall have twenty 
 pahnd a year allowed her bit guvvernment for 
 ivvera choild shoo has aboon ten, becos that ad 
 encourage poppilation. 
 
 Jack — There, lad, yo han em all; an if yo'n 
 ivver seen owt to cum up to em, o'l heit em. 
 
 BiL — Nay, Jack, thah need'ut; they'r toppers, 
 o'l ashure the : but o understand at sum at gossips 
 says at thah't nooa woman's friend, or thah'd near 
 tak em off as thah does. 
 
 Jack — If wot o say abaht em womt true, then 
 they mut say sooa ? but if it is, wot dun they 
 grumble for ? — let em mend. 
 
 BiL — believe there's sum wot runs aht a the 
 gate when they seen thee cummin, an they sen, 
 " Moy eye, if he sees me e this pickle, he'l have 
 me it book." 
 
 Jack — Wa, o can assure booath them an thee 
 at if they'r not fit to look at o shud'nt loik to see 
 em ; but o avver, if they meean o'm nooa friend to 
 gossipin wimmin, whoy, they'r reit enuif ; but if 
 they meean prudent, industrious wimmin, o can 
 just tell em at they'r woppers ; becos o awlis have 
 said, an o'l say it agean, at a good woife is't best 
 blessin at a man can possess a this soid heaven : — 
 beledda, t' next thowt, for won thowt offen begets 
 anuther, o dooant kno wot we cud do withaht 
 t 'wimmin e mooar things besoides't duties of a 
 woif ; for they mannidge a gud menny things wot 
 men cahnt it religious world ; for instance, send a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 227 
 
 beautiful lass to ax yo to subscribe tot missionary 
 societa, an prethe \Y0t sooat an a cast steel face mun 
 afella jDut on to deny her ? There wer won 
 came to me tuther day, we her auburn hair fiowin 
 in luxuriant tresses on her snowy neck, an o'l be 
 hang'd if her bevvitchin smiles an her sweet address 
 did'nt mak me consent to her request befooar 
 shoo'd spokken a dozen words. O dear, aye, 
 there's magic in her vaiTa looks, wot works inter- 
 nally on yer feelings, yo cahnt tell hah ! yore 
 unmann'd at furst seet, yer powers of reason 
 becums parraloized, an shrivels up loik the sensi- 
 tive leaf when toucht ; an all the might of logical 
 eloquence bows with cheerful submission before 
 the silent oratory of female beauty. 
 
 BiL — Gud lackaday ! hah queer it is ! But its 
 txue. Yit sum a thease upstart phrenologists 
 wants to mak us believe at hah wimmin's heeads 
 is'nt made reit for larnin an studdy, an sitch loik. 
 
 Jack — Hah, an sum a their heeads is'nt made 
 reit for spaikin truth. Wot sooat an a heead had 
 Constantia Grierson, a native of Kilkenny, who at 
 the age of eighteen wer mistress a Hebrew, Greek, 
 Latin, an French, besoide her awn language ? An 
 wot sooat an a heead had Mary Cunitz wot were 
 bom e Silesia ? Shoo kno'd Polish, French, 
 Italian, German, Latin, Greek, an't Hebrew lan- 
 guages, besoide been weel versed e history,, medi- 
 cine, paintin, poetry, an music, a gud mathematician 
 an astronomer anole. An wot sooat a heeads had, 
 or has. Miss Martineau, Joanna Bailhe, Felicia 
 H em ans, Hannah More, Miss Edgeworth, Caroline 
 Bowles, Miss Mitford, Agnes Strickland, an Mrs.
 
 228 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Simerville. Wot sooat an a heead had Sarah 
 Felden, shoo translated Xenophon ; an Lady 
 Joouna Lumley, wot translated several orations of 
 Isocrates ; an ^ladame Dacier, the author of 
 several elegant translations from the Greek ; and 
 Mrs. Carter wot translated Epictetus. Nah^ then, 
 wot will these brain-hunters think ahaht this lot ? 
 An we cud mention a hundred yit. 
 
 BiL — Hah; an besoid, wots a famala wethaht a 
 mother ? 
 
 Jack — Wots a ship wethaht a rudder ? Wots a 
 world wethaht a woman, but a wilderness ? An be - 
 soide, has'nt all't poets sung abaht her ivver sin 
 poetry wer o'ther Mt or spokken ? Sloik it has ! 
 Hall cud it miss ? for all us first impressions of 
 pleasure are gathered from her smile. In youth 
 our dreams are brightened with visions of her 
 beauty; in manhood, our life is made happy by her 
 society ; old age is solaced by her cares ; an death 
 is disarmed of half its terrors, when our last mo- 
 ments are hallowed by her prayers. From her all 
 the passionate thoughts an eloquent aspirations of a 
 man's soul proceed. All passions, all sympathies, 
 all feelings that have their origin in the ajGTections, 
 spring into being at her smile ; love comes breath- 
 ing from her lips ; poetry is created by her gaze. 
 All men of understanding acknowledge her value ; 
 they know that she is sent to confer happiness on 
 mankind ; that she breathes into our hearts those 
 sympathies with humanity, and impresses on our 
 natures those perceptions of morality, which form 
 the impassable bamer between the man and the 
 brute.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. S29 
 
 BiL — say Jack, wot will yon coud-blooded, 
 soul-freezin, exterrial-circumstaiice-blubberin, com- 
 fort-blastin, quack socialists say to sitch a pictur a 
 human felicity as this ? 
 
 Jack — Let Shakespeare talk — 
 
 " Which is the socialist ? Let me see his eyes, 
 That when I meet another man like him, 
 I may avoid him." 
 
 But see the, here's a Owenite cummin we Jooa 
 Crocus. We'st have nowt gooin off just nah ; this; 
 is him wot dissected a sheep heead. 
 
 BiL — There's summat touch 't the risible ma- 
 chinery, Jooa; wot is it, eh ^ 
 
 Jooa — Whoy, o'm lafEn at two farmer chaps 
 wot's been fallin aht abaht recknin for a cart looad 
 a hay. One on em says it cums to three pahnd 
 an three hopence ; an't tuther sticks to it back an 
 edge at it cums to two pahnd nointeen an thirteen- 
 pence hopena, an o believe he'] feight befooar he'l 
 beheve at they'r booath aloike. 
 
 Jack — Well, Soimon, they sen thah't turn'd 
 Owenite, quoite soientific anole. 
 
 Soimon — Yis, o am, an to let yo kno, the prin- 
 ciples of Robert Owen's all fahnded uppa soience. 
 
 Jack — An thah's been dissectin a sheep heead 
 anole, o understand ; thah't quoit anatommicle, 
 then, eh ? 
 
 Soimon — Yis, an that's true anole. 
 
 Jack — Then thah'l happen ge us a bit of a de- 
 scription at operation. Wot, did ta tak it tot dis- 
 sectin room, or where, eh ? 
 
 Soimon — A Owenite al nivver be ashamed a
 
 2S0 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECr. 
 
 tellin owt at he does, an sooa yo'st have have it 
 just as it wor. Yo moind o ne'er sed nowt to 
 nobboda abaht it, an sooa o went intot shambles at 
 Setterda neet, an get won for forepence hopena, we 
 pair a ojes loik saucers, an o popt him into a bag an 
 thro'd him ore me shoolder, till o get him into ahr 
 gaiTet ; an't next monin o ger up be fore o'clock, 
 dubbled me shert sleeves up, an faced him fair. At 
 furst o hai'dla kno'd which ad be't best way to get 
 tot insoid on him. O avver, at after o'd studdid a 
 bit, o thowt it ad be't best to set him wit teeth 
 uppards, an slap at him we his mahtli woide oppen , 
 sooa after o'd sharpen 'd me knoife an hatchet, o 
 clapt him uppat table, an get on tot stooil, as o mut 
 cleave him we a swing strooak yo knone ; an o 
 made t'hatchet croi whiz ageean, but mist me aim, 
 an tumbled oflat stooil undert table, an me lord 
 roll'd off, an his teeth cum bang ageean moin, an 
 nockt these two aht (puts his finger to his niahth) 
 as cleean as a wissle. O avver, o'd splitt'nt table e 
 two, o seed that when o ger up ageean ; but o 
 wonit bahn to ge in for that bit, becos o've heeard 
 em say at ahr sanctuary at hah there's nowt dun 
 withaht perseverance, sooa o up an at him ageean 
 as fresh as a lark ; ant next toime o fixt him it 
 winder bottom, an o fetcht him a strooak o'ert 
 teeth wot made foive or six on em floi throot winder 
 loik shot. But still o cud'nt foind his brains reitla, 
 sooa o fixt me knoif fair uppat ridge on his heead, 
 an ged him sitcli a stunner wit sand-hammer at it 
 sent me knoif abaht an inch intot winder bottom, an 
 there it is yit ; sooa o get an oud nail an scollopt 
 his brains aht a booath soides, but o cud'nt foind
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 231 
 
 wot wanted, sooa o browt him all dahn stairs, an 
 set off tot sanctuar}^ an whoil o wer there they 
 boiled it for dinner. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, prethe wot wor ta rooting for ? 
 
 Simon — Whoy, o heeard ahr lecturer say won 
 neet at hah they cud foind t'organ a music in a sheep 
 heead omia toime ; an sooa o thowt if o cud foind 
 one, o'd send it to ahr Jack at Leeds for a Chriss- 
 mas-box. 
 
 Jack — Nooa bad thowt nother, Soimon ; but o 
 understand thah't bahn to be a lecterer, ar'nt ta ? 
 
 SoiMoy — Sloik e am. O think it's nowt hardla 
 at we're fooarst ta send to Huddersfield an Man- 
 chester for em ; an besoide, o think thirta shilHn a 
 week ad be as weel spent uppa me as them for 
 gabblin ahr stuff. 
 
 BiL — An sooa think o, Soimon lad. But o say, 
 Soimon, o think there's a gud memiy on ya wot 
 maks yuse a varra foine words wot yo do'nt under- 
 stand. 
 
 Soimon — O shud think not uo'ther. 
 
 BiL — Just tell us a bit a wot thah believes. 
 
 Soimon — O've noo objection to that. believe 
 it organoization — 
 
 BiL — Hah, there, organoization ; whooa kno's 
 wot that meeans ? Prethe where does it lig ? 
 
 Soimon — AMioy, thah flat, it ligs just aboon 
 the ear rooits, thah ma feel it onna toime. 
 
 BiL — An wot dusta believe besoide ? 
 
 Soimon — Whoy, o believe it constitution, an it 
 external circumstances anole. 
 
 BiL — Hard words agean — constitution, external, 
 an circumstance ; o mun have em explained ; — 
 thah't to lani'd for me, Soimon.
 
 232 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 SoiMON — Wa, constitution, thah kno's, meeans 
 sumraat it insoid on us. 
 
 BiL — Webbut wot ? Does it meean us livver, 
 or stummack, or onna a that set ? 
 
 SoiMON — Nou, but it's summat wot ligs be- 
 tween 't stummack an gullet. 
 
 BiL — A, Soimon, that's a queer place for't con- 
 stitution to lig in. — Wa then, wot's external meean ? 
 
 Soimon — O, onnabodda kno's that ; it meeans 
 ivverlastin, thah kno's ; an ahr lecterer says at cir- 
 cumstance meeans onna thing. 
 
 BiL — Allads Soimon, o think thah't quoit cut 
 ahtibr a lecterer.* Prethe tell us a bit mooar a 
 wot thah believes ; but o'st not want thee to explain 
 no mooar ; o consider at thah't quoite finisht. 
 
 Soimon — Wa then, o believe at Robin Owen's 
 ahr social fath'er, at Bucka's nooa witch, an at 
 nooa man can ivver be made rational whoile he's 
 had his throit scolded we heitin flummera. 
 
 2nd. O believe at Bucka gets better paid for 
 playin at his phantasmagoria nor ivver he did for 
 bein a tailor. 
 
 Jack — O say, Soimon, we dooant want to hear 
 nowt abaht no'ther Bob nor Bucka, for we believe 
 at if they wer shakt in a bag, at they'd booath 
 cum aht together. Prethe go on we the creed. 
 
 Soimon — Wa then, o believe at the religion a 
 Robin Owen 'st only true religion there is, becos 
 it'st mooast natterable, an mooast suited to a bodda's 
 feelins. 
 
 * Our readers may be assured that Simon is a very fair 
 specimen of Owenitish intelligence.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 233 
 
 2nd. believe at religion at Bible is'nt true, 
 becos it waint let a bodda get drunk a bit, nor nowt. 
 
 3rd. O believe at we'n nooa sitch a thing as a 
 soul, becos o^near seed won. 
 
 4th. O believe at there's nooa sitch place as 
 heaven, becos if there is o'm cjuoit shure non a us 
 albe fit to go there. 
 
 5th. O believe at there's nooa sitch place as hell, 
 becos't thowts on it maks a bodda tremble. 
 
 6th. O believe at there's nooa devil, becos we 
 dooant want won. 
 
 7th. O believe we're not accahntable for us 
 actions, becos, if we ahr, sum on us al be in for it. 
 
 8th. believe at religion at Bible is'nt true, be- 
 cos we dooant loik to practise it. 
 
 9th. O believe at ift doctrine at Bible be true at 
 Robin Owen's a gret loiar, becos't rehgion at Bible 
 says we're nobbut to have one woif at wonce, an 
 Owen says it's unnatterable ; but as it al suit mo 
 inclination best to have as menny as o loik, o'st 
 believe his ; an besoid, bible says we're to keep 
 sabbath day holy; but ahr gret social fath'er says 
 we may fiddle an donee an play all up, we're 
 not responsible; nobbut it maks me feel (jueer 
 sumtoimes. 
 
 10th. O believe at we're all animals, an at Owen's 
 system is calculated to elevate man tot standard of 
 a monkey. 
 
 Jack — There, Soimon, we'n had enuff; o'd ad- 
 voisethee togohooamnah, an wesh the head e coud 
 watter neet an monin for a twelvemonth ; it al 
 strengthen the brains astonishingly, for o'm shure 
 thaht laniin past the strength.
 
 234 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — Nay dooant go yit, Soimon : wot 
 woman's this wots been lectering at yore sanctuary ? 
 
 Soimon — Whoy o believe shoos nuncle to Dr. 
 Morrison wot went tot Indies. 
 
 BiL — Nay, nay, Soimon, shoos not his uncle is 
 shoo ? 
 
 Soimon — O nou ; he's her niece, o believe. 
 
 BiL — Come o think not, Soimon [laffin.) 
 
 Soimon — O dooant loik to be laft at : o awer 
 o'm shure shoos his nevvy, or summat a that. 
 
 [Exit Soimon in a pet.'\ 
 
 Jack — Thaht to bad. Bill; thah mut as weel a 
 letten him gon to wesh his heead quoietla. 
 
 BiL — O he'l not be witliin a touch a that sooat, 
 yit. But prethe, who's this cumin ? 
 
 [Enter a stranger.^ 
 
 Stranger — Does Jack Wheels vvarf work e this 
 hull? 
 
 Jack — Hah ; cum forrad ; wot dusta want wehim ? 
 
 Stranger — Whoy o've browt him a varra gret 
 curiosity to look at. Its sum calculations at o've 
 been makkin abaht ahr national debt, an if yo think 
 em worth a comer e yore book yore at liberty 
 to pop em in. Here they are. 
 
 1st. Supposing the national debt to amount to 
 eight hundred milhons sterling, how long would a 
 person be counting it in shillings, at the rate of 
 100 per minute, and to count twelve hours every 
 day, reckoning 365 days 6 hours to the year. 
 
 Answer. 608 years, 5 months, 1 week, 3 days, 2 
 hours, 40 minutes. 
 
 2nd. If this little tiny debt were in shillings sol- 
 dered together edge to edge, reckoning the breadth 
 of a shilling to be one inch, how many hoops would
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 235 
 
 they make that would encompass the globe, admit- 
 in g it to be 2-5,000 miles in circumference ? 
 
 Answer. Ten; and 2/525 miles, 2 furlongs, 4 
 yards, 1 foot, 4 inches towards another. 
 
 J 00 A — Then o think it's a rare good thing at we 
 han a national debt, becos we're loikla to be safer 
 for it. 
 
 BiL — Hah dusta mak that aht ? 
 
 JoOA — Whoy, is'nt a tub awlis safer when it's 
 weel hoopt ? an o shud think t'world ad be't same ; 
 an especially when it's weel hoopt we silver, becos 
 thah kno's that waint rust. 
 
 3rd. ^Yhat would this debt weigh in penny 
 pieces, supposing one to weigh an ounce ? 
 
 Answer. 5,3-57,142 tons, 17 cwt. qr. 16 lbs. 
 
 4th. How many ships would it load of 400 tons 
 burthen. 
 
 Answer. 13,392, and 342 tons, 17 cwt. qr. 16 
 lbs. over. 
 
 5th. What length of road would it pave in penny 
 pieces, reckoning 25 laid edge to edge equal to S6 
 inches in length, and 7 laid won upon another equal 
 to one inch in depth ; the road to be 30 feet broad 
 and one foot thick ? 
 
 Ans. 207 miles, 1394 yards, and £625 over. 
 
 Three hundred men could not carry the weight 
 of the national debt in ten pound bank notes, 512 
 of which weigh one pound. Supposing the debt to 
 be eight hundred milHons of pounds sterhug, it 
 would weigh 156,250 lbs., which for the three 
 hundred men would be 520 lbs. 13 oz. each. 
 
 Jack — Astonishing ! an o'm varra glad yo'n 
 browt us sitch a curiosity ; it shall gooa intot world 
 as sooin as ivver we can send it.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 DICKY OTLEY AT THE MUSIC-HALL 
 JULY 20, 1836. 
 
 Jack — Wot, hasta seen't report at discussion 
 between By water and Otley ? 
 
 BiL — Tubbe shure o have ; o bowt one on 
 em as soon as ivver tliey wer printed ; an o think 
 it's just as they sed it. 
 
 JooA — Nebbut it is'nt; for Otley sed at 
 noine toimes nohie were nointy noine, did'nt he or 
 summat ? 
 
 Jack — Webbut that wer a sHp, thah kno's ; an't 
 printer's made a nooat on't ; that's all fair. 
 
 JooA — Whooa authorised it to be printed ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, rayther think booath parties ; an 
 o think there's ])lenta a stuff for the brass anole. 
 
 JooA — Hah, there's stuff enuff, but it's on a rum 
 stamp, sum on it. Whooa in the name a ten beg- 
 gars kno's wot he meeans when he says at " thinkin, 
 willin, an consciousness are non-essential properties 
 of primitive essences compounded?" 
 
 Jack — O, thah's not a metaphysical heead, Jooa; 
 thah's not get'nt reit sooat a organization e the for- 
 heead for studdyin ontological subjects. Wot's 
 thah think abaht it Bil ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 23*? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, o think here's nooa daht but it 
 wer't best speech he ivver made e all his loife, or 
 ivver will mak ; an mooar nor that, o believe at non 
 a his brothers cud mak a better. 
 
 Jack — They're a sony set then ; — but o believe 
 it had sum vai'ra singular properties; whether they 
 wer essential, or primitive, or primordial, o cahnt 
 tell, but this o can tell, at he had'nt spokken menny 
 minnits, befooar won on his awn set wer fast asleep 
 an snoorin loik a Saxon grunter. 
 
 JuoA — It must have been a soul-stirring oration, 
 then ! 
 
 Jack — O understand at twelve woise men's 
 mooast miserably deceived in him. Sum on em 
 seems to think at there wer abaht as much sense e 
 them brains at he held in his hand as there wor it 
 tuther at he had. Aye, aye, they sing small e ther 
 champion's ears nah. The mountain's brought 
 forth a mouse. My stars ! Bywater* took't sting 
 aht on him that neet. Did'ntya see his culler cum 
 an gooa when't little chap wer cuttin him keen, an a 
 bitter scowl of rage nah an then passin o'er his 
 madden 'd vizzage — indicative of some internal 
 sensations harrowing up his very vitals. Yis, yis, 
 his cast steel polished soul al shoine as clear as mud 
 after this. 
 
 JooA — Webbut o heard say at Otley's speech 
 met we a flattenin reception. 
 
 * Mr. Alfred Bywater, the brother of the author, who 
 shortly after the above discussion entered iuto the Ministry 
 of the Methodist New Connexion, and died triumphing iu 
 the Redeemer on Monday, March 4, 1839, while these pages 
 were going through the press.
 
 238 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — An sooa it did, Jooa lad ; fort tuther chap 
 played his intellectual musher reit an left till it wer 
 impossible to tell wot it wer made on. O suppooas 
 there's a chap wot says at Olley's soul wer crackt 
 it hardnin : but this is not true ; for it wer proved 
 tot satisfaction a all parties that neet at it wer left 
 soft. 
 
 Jack — O say Bil, does thah kno hah menny 
 maks a host ; becos Otley says at they'n a whooal 
 host a ancient fathers a their soide, an o ommast 
 think they'n allt muthers anole. 
 
 Bil — Hah, o've just been lookin at that. It 
 maks me think abaht 'tlass wot ran intot hahce 
 ommast brussen : " A, muther, there's menny a 
 hunderd cats e ahr garden." " Nay, nay," says't 
 muther, *' not menny a hunderd, surely." " " Web- 
 but," says't lass, " o'm shure there's fifta." " O 
 think not," says't muther. " Webbur o'm shure 
 there's twenta, an spaik truth." " Mo lass, twenta's 
 a menni to be altogether ; ai'e ta shure ta seed 
 onna ?" " Hah o am, for o cud sware o seed ahr 
 cat an anuther." An sooa, Otley 's innumerable 
 cumpana a holy fathers just turn'd aht to be twoice 
 as menny as ahr cat an anuther. 
 
 Jooa — Abbut they sen Otley 's a varra great 
 historian. 
 
 Jack — O suppooas sooa, but he'l nivver for- 
 get been twitch 'd at t'assembly room be this same 
 chap abaht Sanchoniatho. dear, a>'e, he made 
 him rooar aht loik a tahn bull, — " Great is the 
 goddess Diana." But he's a rare historian for all 
 that, becos he says at history informs us at Christ 
 made sparrows a clay, an set em a flying ; an at
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 239 
 
 Hercules went to heaven in a chariot a foir, an 
 sitch loik. 
 
 JooA — Wa, o'm as gud a historian as him. O've 
 read abaht a joiant at wor sooa big at a gud 
 soized man wor fooast to jump up to raich his 
 ancles ; an when he went to war wdt nations, he 
 used to tak a mahntin an cuvver em all. But for 
 all that, o dooant kno at o'ther a these tales has 
 much to do wit immateriality at soul, thah kno's. 
 
 BiL — Hark the ! Anciently, he says they'd 
 three sowls, one-it heead, one it breast, an one all 
 o'er. 
 
 Jack — That's nobbut one mooar nor we han 
 nah, for Otley says \Ae'n two, nobbut he cahnt feel 
 em. But, says he. Dr. Johnson defines t' soul to 
 be a thinkin spirit, and I define it to be breath or 
 air. An sooa them wot'st woidest gullet swallow^s't 
 mooast thinkin, an them wot swallows 't mooast air 
 has't biggest sperrit. Then between Dr. Johnson 
 an Dr. Otley, we're constantly puffin sperrits back- 
 ard an forrad. 
 
 J ERR A — An is that metaphysics ? 
 
 BiL — But hear the ! — He says at philosophers 
 made all essences wot had'nt extension, figure, an 
 divisibility, to be sperrit. Then there is essences 
 wot has'nt extension, is there — eh ? Are they spi- 
 ritual essences — eh ? Oh Richard ! Mahomet 
 diddled the Turks, and the Pope diddled the Pa- 
 pists, and Richard Otley diddled his sen ! But 
 here's anuther bit a good ; — " Having defined the 
 word immaterial to mean nothing, we shall next 
 prove the soul to be material." Allads, Dicky ! 
 Let me give me awn definitions of words an o'l
 
 S40 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 . prove owt. Thus he might say, — " Having de- 
 fined the word light to mean nothing, I shall next 
 proceed to prove that the word darkness means 
 sunshine." 
 
 Jack — Here's anuther starcher : — he says at if 
 yo mak a hoil in a man's heead, at he'l have nooa 
 sensation. 
 
 BiL — Whoy it's not loikla he shud have onna 
 sensation when his soul's flown aht at top an his 
 heead. 
 
 Jack — Abbut then, when he taks't gimblet aht 
 on his heead, he says all his sensations al cum 
 back. 
 
 BiL — Wa then, depend onthe ne'er lost em. 
 
 JoOA — An sooa think o; o'l ne'er believe at 
 onnabodda may be rammin at a chap's brains, 
 an him ne'er feel it; not sooa; it al not doo, 
 Dicky, mo lad. An besoid, they'd beloik to 
 bore two hoils, becos if a chap cud'nt think a 
 won soid, he cud at tutlier, for his organization's 
 just same a booath soids his heead. Bur o'd 
 forget'n, cud a chap ger his breth wen they 
 wer squeezin his brains ? if he cud, they mut 
 bore whoile ther buzzard vision cud'nt see't gimblet 
 befooar they cud bore his soul aht; becos soul 
 means breth or air, says Otley; an whoil ivver 
 he'd a bit a breth left, he'd have just as much soul. 
 An this is metaphysics anole ! 
 
 BiL — Bur he wants to kno where t' soul hgs, an 
 hah big it is — if it is'nt extended. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, he says at it hgs nowhere at all, 
 becos he tells us at actions at moind, sitch as 
 thinkin an willin, are non-essential properties of
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. ^41 
 
 matter, resulting from organoization, an are nob- 
 but mere accidents ; just loik't cullers it rainbow, 
 they are nooa reality, but nobbut reflections from 
 the mind, and these reflections or accidents are just 
 all the qualities at moind possesses. An in anuther 
 place he says, " Take these qualities away, and you 
 take the moind away." Wot a flat ! 
 
 BiL — Wa then, wot says ta abalit soize at soul ? 
 becos, thah kno's, he wants to kno hah big it is ; 
 an o'm quoite shure onna man at ad ax that quesh- 
 ton must be a metaphysician born. 
 
 JooA — Wot, will ya measure bit peck or yard ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, o reckon all essential proimordial 
 properties, as he calls em, are summat loik't thing 
 at they inhere m, an sooa if we can ger houd a sum 
 a them, we can happen cum at a ruff metaphysical 
 guess. 
 
 BiL — Wot, thah means sitch as consciousness, 
 willing, an that lot. 
 
 Jack — Egzactla. Jerra, fetch us a yard wand, 
 an bring a woman's conscience we the, one at long- 
 est thah can foind. 
 
 Jerra — Beledda, lad, o think they're all a 
 length, an they're not good to catch ; an besoid, yo 
 mun have a male consciousness. 
 
 BiL — Harra, cum here ; thah mun gooa to 
 Otley's, but thah mun gooa quoite metaphysicaly, 
 thah kno's, or else he'l not kno wot ta means. 
 Dusta kno wot metaphysics means, if he shud ax 
 thee ? 
 
 Harra — Sloik e doo. 
 
 BiL — Whoy, where would ta gooa if ta wanted 
 to buy onna ? 
 
 R
 
 242 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Harra — Whoy, tot shambles furst, au then tot 
 doctor, ail o'l be bun for't o shiid get meit an phiz- 
 zick en ufF there. 
 
 JooA — That's a goffer, o avver. Thah cud'nt 
 ge a better definition, if ta troid for a munth. 
 
 BiL — Quoite substantial ; but thah mun ax liini 
 to be so koind as to send his consciousness. 
 
 Harry — Will it be a long an ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, it al be just nooa length at all. 
 
 JooA — Then it's all on a lump, o reckon, just 
 loike his brains. 
 
 BiL — Nou, bless me loife, it's summat wot's re- 
 flected aht on his brains, just loike t' cullers at rain- 
 bow's reflected aht at sun's rays. 
 
 Jack — Ax him if he has onna consciousness, an 
 if he has, where he puts it, an whether it be exten- 
 ded, an to wot length, — whether it be as long as a 
 ass's ears, an as stupid as't thing wot wears em, an 
 which is't thick end on't, an sitch loike. (An sooa 
 away he went, an varra sooin came hack.) 
 
 BiL — Here he cums. — Well, has ta get'n it ? 
 
 Harra — He's vast metaphysicle, o believe, for 
 o'd no sooner mention 'd consciousness, nor he be- 
 gun a mutterin sooa queer. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, wot did he mutter abalit ? 
 
 Harra — A dear, o cahnt remember hofe, but 
 somehow a this way : — metajDhysically, ontologically, 
 primitive, primordial essence, mathematical, imrna- 
 teriahty, extenuated, demonstration, illustration, 
 angels — o mean ancles — o nay, angles, quadrant, ad 
 inflnit\nn, substance, soul, instinct, mind, matter, 
 breath, air, steel, skull, gimblet, brains, actions, 
 qualities, phenomena, vitality, pendulum, groans.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 243 
 
 curses, lamentations, ever, ever, ever, — an o thowt 
 he must be crazed, sooa o ran aht, an left him at it, 
 an he's at it yit, for wot o kno. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, west beloik to leave this, an 
 have a bit a organization. " The actions of the 
 mind are non-essential properties of matter resulting 
 from organization, and they are accidents." Nah 
 o've been teld at Otley sed afooar he went tot dis- 
 cussion, at heed prove, if't soul womt matter, at 
 hah it w^or nowt. An if thah'l put the proimordial 
 si3ectacles on, an just tak a metaphysicle squint at 
 wot he says, thah'l foind at he's been guilta a 
 spaikin't truth for wonce. Let's ask him what is 
 consciousness, thinking, willing, an sitch loik. He 
 says they're summat not essential to matter : sooa 
 thah sees at once at us souls is no'ther matter nor 
 spirit. Its quoit clear at poor fellow cud'nt see wot 
 he wor tokin abaht. He maks thinkin a accident, 
 an then tells ya at it results throo organization. 
 Wa then, where ivver organization is theal be think- 
 ing ; it cahnt be separated. An then ageean, he 
 says at mooast at qualities at moind are actions an 
 not essences (proimordial o reckon) : whoy nobboda 
 thowt they wor essences. But an action imj^lies a 
 power in some being to act, dus'nt it ? or can ther 
 be a action wethaht a actor ? Good stars ! he 
 beggars all't metaphysicle gladiators at ivver ex- 
 isted for argument. He can o'ther prove at we 
 have a soul or at we hav'nt, just as he loiks. Just 
 look at him here : — 
 
 " Take away all the qualities of the mind, and it 
 ceases to be mind." 
 
 " Most of the qualities of the mind exist only as 
 accidents."
 
 244 THE SHEFFIELD DIALE€T. 
 
 And yet if these accideuts are taken away, the 
 mind is taken away ! He might just as well say, 
 tak away t' culler at rainbow, an you tak away t' 
 rays at sun. O dear* ! O dear ! wot problems is 
 these ! If hofe a pahnd a cheese cost foui-jience, 
 wot wud a cart looad a turnips coss ? But that': 
 mathematics ! Bm* he wants to kno whear all 
 animals gooa too when they dee. 
 
 BiL — \Vhoy, hemun aks't saddlers ; for o wonce 
 heeard won say at if he did'nt gooa tot Christians 
 heaven, he shud be shure to gooa tot horse heaven, 
 for he'd spent ommast all his loif e makkin ther 
 collars easy. Sooa if they knone wheart' horse 
 heaven is, they'l be't loikleist to tell Otley whear 
 allt rest al gooa too. But hark here ; ai'e morality 
 depends on the natural organization of man. 
 
 Jack — Then a man cahnt help bein a thief can 
 he? 
 
 BiL — Not if he's get'n a thiefs heead he 
 cahnt. 
 
 J 00 A — Webbut he did'nt mak his heead his sen, 
 an o think it wud'nt be reit to punish a chap for 
 dooin wot he cud'nt help. 
 
 Jack — Nou, lad, it's a hard case, vaiTa; but wot 
 a soft oud kofe nature must be to mak thief heeads, 
 an sitch loik ! whoy did'nt shoo mak em all honnest 
 ans ? 
 
 J 00 A — Hah are we to telt difference betweent 
 heead on a rooag ant heead on a fooil ? 
 
 Jack — W^ioy, thah mun look at their comer 
 teeth. 
 
 Jooa Wa then, if a chap tunis his^ woife aht, an 
 lives we summada's else's, wotst cause on it ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 245 
 
 Jack — Whoy, t' shape on his heead. 
 
 JooA — If a chap meets aiiuther uppat hoi- 
 rooad, nocks hhn dalm, an robs him, wot'st cause 
 a that ? 
 
 Jack — Shape on his heead. 
 
 JooA — If a chap commits adultery, incest, an 
 sitch loik, wot'st cause a that ? 
 
 Jack — Shape on his heead. 
 
 JooA — If a chap be a drunkard, a loiar, a swind- 
 ler, &c. wot'st cause a that ? 
 
 Jack — Shape on his heead, 
 
 JooA — If a chap be varra gud, virtuous, chari- 
 table, kind, &c. wot'st cause a that ? 
 
 Jack — Shape on his heead. 
 
 JooA — Wa, it's queer. 
 
 BiL — It's all a piece a humbug, ant circum- 
 stance a Otley wan tin to alter it proves at he did'nt 
 kno wot he said. 
 
 JooA — Webbut Otley says he could loik to 
 have anuther gooa at him. 
 
 Jack — If he'l submit to ahr terms he shall ; 
 namely, he shall sit in a two-arm 'd chair for hofe 
 an hahwer, fair it middle at orchester. we a pair a 
 asses ears nailed reit an left uppat chair back, 
 pointing to his proimordial cranium, emblematical 
 of its contents. But he'l not do that, he's o'er 
 prahd !
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE SHEVVILD CHAP'S OPINION 
 ABAHT PROIZE FEITIN. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Well, o say, Jack, wot thinks 
 ta abaht toimes nah ? 
 
 Jack Wheelswart — Whoy, mo lad, they're 
 rayther flat just nah ; but o hooap when't Americans 
 gets houd at brass at's been sent, at they'l be a bit 
 better. 
 
 BiL — Flat ! toimes hard ! bad trade ! — whoy, 
 there's heeaps a Shevvilders gon thirty moiles to 
 see two men turn ther sens into summat at there's 
 nooa comparison for, no'iher be sea nor land. Hah, 
 even men we won leg it grave, an't tuther varra 
 near in, has gon all that way to see (o'm ashamed 
 to say wot) two men feit. Wot thinks ta abaht 
 that set, eh ^ 
 
 Jack — O, they're gentlemen a soiance, an though 
 thah ma think em harden'd wretches, o can ashure 
 the, they're men wot can varra often soften won 
 anuther. 
 
 JooA — Adder say thah'd think sooa if thah felt 
 ther sledge-hammer fists abaht the toll-dish.^
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 247 
 
 BiL — 0, toll -dish, eh ! thah's been e Walter 
 Scott's " Ivanhoe " for that, o fancy ; but it's a 
 manly exercise, there seems summat so noble in it, 
 — summat at al mak a chap think a good deeal 
 abaht his sen, whether onna bodda else does or 
 not. 
 
 JooA — Noble ? — is'nt it angehc ? 
 
 Jack — Nou, it's not angelic, becos there's to 
 much sensation in it. 
 
 BiL — Whoy ahr schooilmester yus't to tell 
 us at hah it wor vishus for dogs to feit, much 
 mooar men. 
 
 BiL — Abbut ahr schooilmester 's gon abrooad, 
 nah ; things has tain menny a turn sin then. A 
 man's reckon 'd a gentleman nah for dooin wot he'd 
 a been hang'd for wonce. There's nowt chm svith- 
 aht steeam an soiance nah-days ; if a chap's oyes 
 is to be bung'd up, it mun be dun soiantifEcally, or 
 else he's reckon'd a blaggard. 
 
 BiL — Wa, o'd awlis a vaiTa different opinyon 
 abaht wot made a gentleman ; to be shure o may 
 be wrang, sin things has tain a turn. 
 
 JoGA — Whoy, does ta nivver read t' Lunnon 
 Bull-dog-feitin Gazett, thah kno's ? 
 
 BiL — Nou, o wud'nt suffer that thing to cum 
 within seven moile a mo liahce, if o cud help it. 
 O think it a national pest, — a national curse, — 
 — a disgrace tot press, as weel as't country. O 
 thmk it the blackest, the most demoraloizing, 
 the varra foulest production in circula-tion ; an 
 if ivver there shud be a reason for cursin the art of 
 printin, it ad be becos sitch a mass of corruption 
 wer suffer 'd to contaminate the moinds of the roisin
 
 248 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 generation. Its contributions is made up a dial- 
 linges to feit o'ther cocks, dogs, or men, from 
 all the scum an filth in the cunti'a. That's 
 mo opinion ahaht that paper. 
 
 JooA — Webbut if thah'd ivver read it, thah'd a 
 seen at there's gentlemen dog-feiters, gentlemen 
 proize-feiters, gentlemen cock-feiters, gentlemen 
 s\vindlers, gentlemen gamblers e human life, 
 gentlemen pickpockets, gentlemen murderers a 
 one another, an gentlemen vagabonds a ivvera grade 
 an description. Bless the loif, man, onna vilkn 
 can get tubbe called a gentleman, if he's nobbut a 
 good hand at his villany. 
 
 BiL — Then o'm to understand at if a fella can 
 mush a chap's frontispiece whoil it'st culler of a 
 cofe's heead, when it's been hung in a butcher's 
 shop a munth, or pummel it whoil its as soft as a 
 rotten turnip, or nock won or booath his eyes alit, 
 at he's a gentleman, eh ! 
 
 Jack — Egzactla, a furst-rater, fit to wear t' belt 
 in a Christian cuntra, under onna Christian 
 guvvemment, an even where Christian bishops sit 
 as legislators. 
 
 BiL — it's brutish wark ! — Human brutes ! — 
 w ot a paradox ! 
 
 Jack — Wot, does thah meean to compare these 
 foine-lookin gentlemen, wot's get'n booans loike a 
 bullock, an a fist loike a leg a mutton, to brutes ? 
 Thah'd better not let em hear the, for if ta does, it's 
 not vaiTa unloikla at there al be sum comparison 
 between thah heead an yore gret saucepan. An 
 besoide, dus'nt thah think at when thah sees a chap 
 respectably drest^ walking abaht streets we a pair a
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 249 
 
 black eyes, an his arm in a sling, at he looks vastla 
 loike a gentleman ? An then, hah useful it ad be, 
 when we'd a bit a spoite agean a chap, to be quali- 
 Ibid to nock his day-leets up, or to lig a fella 
 s})rottlin it muck, just bit way a sattlin a argument. 
 There's nooa sofEstra e this ; nou, nou, it's an ap- 
 plication to the feelins, withaht t'help a logic; an o'm 
 just tliinkm if they'd adopt this system it Hahce a 
 Commons, they'd not stay measurin tungs till two 
 o'clock it monin ; brother Gully ad cleai''t hoil on 
 em menny a toime befooar midneet, we arguments 
 mooar substantial an sensable nor's varra offen 
 livver'd aht e that shop. 
 
 JooA — Nah, o've heeard say at w^hen these gen- 
 tlemen gooas to feit, at they vaiTa offen nock won 
 another's heeads till tlie)^'re as soft as blubber. All 
 that ma be true, but o think here's summat else at 
 has'nt been consider 'd. 
 
 Jack — Hah ? wot's that ? 
 
 •J 00 A — Whoy, it stroikes me varra fooai'cible at 
 they wer soft befooar they went, an there's a vaiTa 
 foine sample a soft ans gooas to see em. 
 
 BiL — O think, Jacka, thah's been trailin us a 
 bit. Just tell us, e good eemist wot's thah opinyon 
 abaht em. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, thoine's bad enuff, but moines ten 
 toimes war, if possible. Hah monstrous ! hah 
 unnatteral ! hah inhuman ! hah wretchedly be- 
 sotted e ignorance ! Here's two fellas meet in 
 perfect health an strength, we a fixt an firm 
 resolution to smash won anuther to pieces; an 
 then here's two mooar at same kidney, wot stans 
 beheent em, to see at they kill ther sens soiaiitiffi-
 
 2^50 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 cally. This lot is enclosed it insoid on a ring, at 
 aht soid a whicli is collected together all the varra 
 dregs of society ; an just accooardin tot state at battle 
 does each party shaht, an sware, an bet, an cheeat ; 
 an whoil they're shahtin, or bettin, or cheeatin, 
 there's another set a gentlemen bizzy e pickin ther 
 pockets. Well, by an by, won at feiters is dun 
 up, his jaw's brokken, or a eye nockt aht, or his 
 bodies maul'd an bruised e sitch a manner at he's 
 fooast to ge in. Wot then ? Whoy, after gettin 
 three parts murder 'd, an disabled sooa at he can 
 nivver work agean, the very men wot back'd him al 
 curse him to his face, an tell him he wer nivver fit 
 to feit at all. This lot gooas away raylher chop- 
 fallen ; but the winners rend the very hevvens we 
 ther shah,just as if the greatest enemy of mankind 
 wer for ivver annihilated. Well, the man is tain 
 away, an a doctor sent for; but his walmds baffles 
 t' skill at physician, an in a short time he's 
 deead. Well, wot do ya call this ? — Manslaughter ? 
 Nou, o call it wilful, deliberate murder ! an ivvera 
 man wot bets a sixpence uppat issue, has a share in 
 it. Wot, then, are we to think a sitch men wot 
 studdy a soiance, as they call it, fort sole pui'pose 
 a killin an maimin ^von anuther, an thus bid de- 
 fiance alike tot laws a God an man ? Here, then, 
 religion is laft at, humanity kick'd a won soide, an 
 all't moral feelins stnltifoid to summat ten toims war 
 nor brutish stupidity. Could it ever a been 
 conceived possible at men should be sooa depraved 
 — sooa monstrously wicked — sooa shockingly blas- 
 phemous, as to mak the eternal destinies of the 
 human soul a gambling speculation ? O look uppa
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 251 
 
 these fellows as the van'a lowest of the low, an their 
 system the wickedest of all the wicked ; ivvera 
 thing connected with it is had, an its demoraloizin 
 influence on society is not tubhe calculated. Just 
 look at state of a tahn loik this, where won a these 
 disgraceful scenes is to tak place. (But, by the 
 way, it is to the eternal honour of Shevvild, that 
 these fellows cahnt get to show off within thirty 
 moil rahnd.) Whoy, just this, ivvera workshop, 
 ivvera Jerra-shop, ivvera gin-shop, an even in the 
 oppen street, feitin'st common topic of conversation, 
 an mooar they toke, an mooar ther feelins become 
 blunted : an this is particularly t' case we lads. 
 An then, to imitate these gret feiters, these young- 
 sters, throo thirteen to eighteen, mun mak pitcht 
 battles, an gooa intot fields on a Sunday tubbe 
 shure ; an these feel thersens cj^uoit men we a pair 
 a black oyes, or a stunn'd finger, an ther ann in a 
 sling. An if yo shud happen to say owt to a gang 
 loik this, yo'l pratta sooin have hofe a dozen fists e 
 yer face, an a volley a curses, an they'l smash yer 
 ribs in a cupple a shacks. An even smii parents al 
 lam ther childer to do mandozar befooar they 
 can o'ther walk or toke ; — mooar shame for em ! 
 
 JooA — Nah, o'l just tell the hah o'd have these 
 feitin men sarved. All wot wanted to feit shud be 
 put into a pinfoud, wot shud be woled twenta yards 
 hoigh, an nobbada be alah'd to see em ; they shud 
 be made fast in for an hahwer, an wen they cum 
 aht they shud be trail'd rahnd tahn in a cart, e 
 boxin order, just as ivvera bodda cud see hah two 
 fooils cud mump won another ; an at ivvera street 
 comer be pelted we rotten eggs ; an then be sent
 
 252 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 tot tread-mill for a nmnth to finish ther eddication. 
 This sooat a phizzic ad ungentleman a good menny 
 on em, o'l warrant it. 
 
 BiL — Nah o winider whether these chaps gets 
 di'unk soiantiffically or not ? 
 
 JooA — Tuhhe shure they doo, an if yo shud 
 happen to say owt to em wot wod'nt pleease em ; 
 they'd just ge ya a soiantific bung o'ert nooas, an 
 mak a gentleman on ya in a minnit ; an wooa can 
 grumble ? becos all men profess to be lovers a 
 soiance. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, its not menny weeks sin a noble 
 lord wer playing Jim Crow, e company we a feitin 
 man, an he wor tain up be't Police, o believe. — 
 Varra foine, this, eh ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, o knew a noble lord at yused to 
 keep a bear. 
 
 JooA — Hah, there's nooa accahntin for taste ; 
 but he wor a lord, or else he'd a been call'd a 
 blagguard. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, mun, here's lots a lords regular 
 gamblers, an o think that ist reeason at they care 
 so little abaht these feitin men. They seeminly 
 can feit onna where abaht Lunnun, an have it ad- 
 vertoised for a week afooarand, withaht ivver being 
 stopt bit police. O say they owt to put t'law e full 
 fooarce, at ivvera won wot kill'd another shud be 
 troid for Wilful IMurder. An o'l tell ya anuther 
 thing, an that is, at if onna man, whether lord or 
 duke, be a gambler, or a feitin man, at he shud be 
 for ivver disqualifoid for a legislator. 
 
 BiL — Wa, then wot's to be dun we this proise- 
 feitin nuisance ? hah is it to be put dalm ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2o3 
 
 Jack — Let justice be done; let ivvera man at 
 taks t' loif of another be hanged iippat spot where't 
 murder wer committed, an then the foulest blotch 
 at ivver disgraced a Christian nation shall be for 
 ivver ^^^ped aht. 
 
 BiL — Nah, adder say these feitin men al think 
 we're varra hard on em ; but its ahr opmion at 
 we're sent intot world for varra different purposes 
 throo proize -feitin. We happen tnbbe won a them 
 sooat a animals wot believes in the existence of a 
 God ; that we possess an immortal soul, which must 
 exist in a future state ; an that ahr eternal destiny 
 depends vaira much uppa ahr conduct here : — we 
 believe at men al be judged accordin to ther works; 
 an altho' we're not merit-mongers, yet we do think 
 at ivvera proize feiter must merit the displeasure of 
 his maker, if he die with his sins unrepented on. 
 We think we are sent intot world tubbe virtuous, 
 not vicious ; — tubbe kind, not cruel ; — tubbe loving, 
 not to be abusive ; — not only to studdy ahr awn 
 happiness, but the happiness of others. Nah we 
 ihink at proize-feitin just leads tot contrary a all 
 these, an we greatly daht to summat war*. As 
 parents, as citizens, as mesters, as lovers of ahr 
 species, we spaik aht uppa this subject, because it is 
 most ruinous booath to body an soul, the con- 
 sequences of which raich beyond the limits of 
 time. 
 
 JooA — Theyl say thah't a methodiss. 
 
 BiL — An if it wonit a better method nor theirs, 
 
 o'd varra sooin forsake it. Mo jNIethodism has 
 
 ivvera thing in it an abaht it wot's calculated to 
 
 mak me happy, honest, and honourable, an the
 
 254 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 worst wish o wish these feitin gentlemen is, that 
 they were influenced by the same principles. 
 
 JooA — Wa, o kno'd a Methodiss parson wot ad 
 been a boxer, an abaht a munth after lie wer con- 
 verted, a chap cum to his hahce one neet, an nockt 
 
 at dooar ; — " Duz Jack live here ?" " Yis," 
 
 says t' man, *' an wot does thah want we Jack 
 
 p" ci \yi^Qy^ Q'ye browt thee a challinge to 
 
 feit Bil in a munth." " Oh," says t' man, 
 
 " thah mun gooa the way back, an tell Bil at 
 
 Jack is tum'd Methodiss, an if he'd sent his 
 
 challinge two or three week sooner, he'd a get'n a 
 good hoidin."
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 
 
 THE SHEVVILD CHAP'S OPINION OF 
 
 ROBERT OWEN'S SOCIALISM, 
 
 AS EXHIBITED IN THE 
 
 SOCIAL BIBLE. 
 
 Jack — Well, Bil, he's cum'd at last, an browt 
 his social physic we him. We'st all be transmngri- 
 foid into peiiection nah. We'n all been wTang 
 ivver sin 't world stood, an we'n all been sitch a pack 
 a flats at we nivver cud foind it aht till Robberd 
 Owen cum squeealin intot world, an fun it aht be 
 his own shaipness. 
 
 BiL — Wa, then, o think it a marsa at he is 
 cum'd, becos it's nivver to late to mend, they sen; 
 an it's nooa sacret at sum on us ad be no war if we 
 wer a bit better ; for good lack-a-day, we're in a 
 queear world, an if he's cum'd to mak us onna bet- 
 ter, o'm shure we owt to be thankful. 
 
 Jack — A, goodness, man, he'st varra essence of 
 perfection itsen ; he's just chap wot's wanted to 
 reggilate us top gaiTets, an mak us wot we awlis 
 thowt we wor, — viz. rational beins. He's a philan- 
 thropist, if ta kno's wot sooat an a thing that is.
 
 256 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 BiL — Stop, o'l get dix'naiy. Let's see, wot mun 
 6 look for? F is, o reckon. {Looks, €ahnt foind 
 it.) It's not in, it must be a new word, an he 
 must have a new system, an he's bahn to mak us 
 all new, an we'st have a new world altogether. An 
 then he'l mak Solomon tell a fib, for he sed there 
 wer nowt new under't sun. But mooast loikla 
 Robbin kno's better nor Solomon. 
 
 Jack — Hah, he can see a midge throo a six 
 inch plank better nor Soloman cud see won throo 
 his barnacles. 
 
 BiL — This is't age a discovvera ; here's mar- 
 vellous things cums to pass nah days. ( Turns 
 oert dixnary. ) O, but it's here, o see ; it's amang't 
 p .h i's. Nah then, let's see. — Oh, " Philanthropist, 
 a lover of his species." Wa, then o shud think he 
 must be a reit an. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, there nivver wer won loik him 
 befooar, an thear al nivver be won loik him no 
 mooar ; for if his system be true, then there's 
 mooar wisdom concentrated e his skull than there 
 ivver has been e all't skulls at ivver possest brains 
 befooar, an his name's shure to be handed dahn to 
 mortallata we a wither ; he's pratta weel knb'n in 
 Amerrica allredda. 
 
 BiL — Wot, has he been dooin Jonathan? 
 
 Jack — Yis, he diddled Jonathan, but unfor- 
 tunatla he diddled his sen anole. He bowt a piece 
 a land there sum years sin, an troid to establish his 
 socialism there ; an he get sum as silly as his sen 
 to join him, an foine fun they had for a whoil ; for 
 this system allow 'd em to fiddle an donee all't day 
 on a Sunday, an they call'd it rational ! But they
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 257 
 
 cud'ut amalgamate ; — the rich lasses did'nt loik to 
 gooa a milkiD, an be daubed we cah muck, to be 
 latt at bit pooar ans. O avver, they continued to 
 fiddle an donee tilt blunt wer gone, an then this 
 marvellous moral doctor doust o'ert Atlantic into 
 England, to administer his syrup here ; an nah 
 he's donst into She wild, an o hooap all't wimminit 
 tahn al mak him donee aht agean to the tune of 
 the " Rogue's March." For if his system be 
 adopted, farewell domestic happiness for ever ! — 
 becos e his new system there's to be no'ther husband 
 nor woife, nor onna distinctions a this sooart. 
 
 BiL — Wot, does he praich agean domestic hap- 
 piness, an's a lover of his species — eh ? Nah o 
 awlis thowt at genuine affection between husband 
 an woife, when regulated and influenced by pure 
 religion, produced the happiest state possible. 
 
 Jack — tell the there's to be nooa husband nor 
 woife ; for we're not to live e families, as we doo 
 nah, but e " communities and associations of men, 
 women, and children, in the usual proportions, 
 from two hundred to three thousand, as local cir- 
 cumstances determine." 
 
 BiL — Then we're not to be married, but we're 
 to pig together e lots, — a sooart an a seraglio con- 
 sarn, for't men to gooa to when they loik. Well, o 
 shud think that chap wot tokes a that fashon's ne- 
 ther a rooag nor a fooil, but just ready for a stret 
 jacket. But let me ax em, what eai'thly name is 
 so dear as that of mother ? what earthly relation- 
 ship or state can produce affection so strong or 
 pure as that of husband an woif, mother an dowter ? 
 or wot name so noble an manlike as that of fath'er
 
 258 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 an son ? An is these distinctions to be for ever 
 banished ? is the sacred institution of marridge to 
 be broken up, which binds society together witli ties 
 most indissoluble, eh ? 
 
 Jack — Let Owen answer: " The only founda- 
 tion on which the temple of human happiness can 
 be erected, is a rational commonwealth, divided into 
 communities of property ; wherein no artificial dis- 
 tinctions will be kno\Mi ; where the irrational sounds 
 of husband and wife, and master and mistress, will 
 not be heard." 
 
 BiL — Houd, houd, houd, Jacka ! thah't stuffin 
 us a bit. 
 
 Jack — Abbut, am e ? he says uppat same page, 
 " In such a state of society the travail of the female 
 will be divested of all its pains." Wot thinks ta 
 abaht that — eh P 
 
 BiL — Allads, Owen ; if o wer a woman, o shud 
 wish that state to cum sooin. Then he dus'nt be- 
 lieve at these pains is't consequence a sin. 
 
 Jack — Poo ! fudge, lad ; he's a reggilar reit 
 dahn atheist ; he no'ther beheves in a boible (as a 
 revelation), nor a boible God. Hai'k the wot he 
 says he believes : — " I believe that all facts prove 
 that there is an external or internal cause for all 
 existence ; but that man has not yet acquired a 
 knowledge of any facts to ascertain what that cause 
 is, or any of its essential qualities."* 
 
 BiL — He's another Dick, o hear — won at oud 
 schooil. O wot a wonder-workin world we're in ! 
 
 * Almost all the modern pretended atheists believe in 
 some sort of a first cause, but like Owen they do not know 
 what it is.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2o9 
 
 he'l just suit a lot at o kno. An sooa we're all to 
 tura Turkish Sultans, an't women Sultanas ! 
 
 Jack — An we're all to follow us awn inclination; 
 there's to be nooa rich nor poor — were all to be on 
 a level ; an moi stars ! we shall have fun ; we'st 
 have ivvera thing wot we loike to live on, an we'st 
 heit, an stulF, an stare, an guzzle, till we're as fat 
 as butter ; an then we'st fiddle an donee for exer- 
 cise, an to finish us fun, we'st all donee intot sera- 
 glio, an end t' neet up there. Wa then, we'st work 
 when we loike, an as little as we loike, an travel 
 when we loike, an where we loike, an A — it will be 
 noist ! 
 
 BiL — O rare Bob ! he's fan summat aht, o av- 
 ver ; there's nooa wonder on him gettin disciples, 
 but o think he'l not get nienny rich ans, though o 
 wonce knew a chap fooil eniiff to thro abaht four 
 thahsand pahnd after John Wroe an that set, an 
 nah he's uppat parish. Alas poor human natur ! 
 
 Jack — Abbut he's made a vast menny discoveries 
 abaht men an childer, an they're publisht e v.ot's 
 call'd the Social Bible. 
 
 BiL — An wot are they, pre the ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, he says at hah nooa infant has t' 
 power to decide when he shall be born. 
 
 BiL — Wsi, hah in the name a goodness can a 
 infant decide wdien he shall be born after he is 
 bom ? an hah can he decide befooar he is bom, 
 eh ? WeU dun Bob. 
 
 Jack — Wa, then he ses at nooa infant can de- 
 cide whether his father shall be rich or poor. 
 
 BiL — Hurra ! Xah suppose it possible for a 
 infant to dow^on o these thhij^s ; when is he to do it ?
 
 260 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Is he to do it befooar he's born, or after ? Nah o 
 wuiider whether Robin could tell me whether a pig 
 can see't woind or not. 
 
 Jack — Thirdly, he says at its possible to taich a 
 a choild at two an two maks four. 
 
 BiL — Nah o wunder whether Owen did'nt laff 
 at his sen when he writ that. Whoy its possible 
 to mak a choild believe at two an two maks seven. 
 But o'l bet owt Owen cahn't tell wot's t' reeason at 
 two an two niaks foui", as much of a witch as he 
 is. 
 
 Jack — Fourthly, he says at hah its possible to 
 mak a choild believe at black's wlioite, an at whoit's 
 nooa culler at all. 
 
 BiL — An wot be that ? he can't mak a man be- 
 lieve it, wethaht he be as crazy as he is. 
 
 Jack — Fifthly, he says at hah it's absolutely 
 possible to mak a infant into a rational being. 
 
 BiL — He's a rare guesser ; but o think his 
 fath'er war nobbut a poor tooil at that trade. 
 
 Jack — Sixthly, at it's possible to mak a choild 
 into a iiTational being. 
 
 BiL — Hah, his existence proves that. 
 
 Jack — Seventhly, at all men believe a thing to 
 be true when they're fooarst. 
 
 BiL — O shud think he fun that aht when he 
 wer in America, for he wer fooarst to believe at his 
 system wud'nt work weel there, o shud think. 
 
 Jack — Eighthly, at ivvera man, woman, an 
 choild loikes that wot's pleasant, an disloikes that 
 wot's unpleasant. 
 
 BiL — Thah ma depend on't Ov/en gets up e 
 rare toime in a mornin, or he'd near fun that aht.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2Ul 
 
 Jack — Ninthly, at if onna bodda heits or drinks 
 till they're ommast brussen, they're shure to feel 
 uneasy. 
 
 BiL — Sans pareil ! 
 
 Jack — Tenthly, at no man can tell whether a 
 apple be sweet or sour till he's tasted it. 
 
 BiL — But he may have a gud guess. 
 
 Jack — Eleventhly, at all men feel't best when 
 they're e perfect health. 
 
 BiL — Not when they're balm to be hano-'d. 
 
 o 
 
 Jack — Twelfthly, at all men are in a state 
 of perfect happiness when they're e nooa state 
 else. 
 
 BiL — Thah's dun o hooap : if thah has'nt o'st 
 cut. 
 
 Jack — Xou, nor hofe ; but if thaht toired o'l 
 ge o'er ; but o avver, these is't part of a lot a dis- 
 coveries wot Robin's made, an which he's been 
 pleased to reveal fort cure of a distempered 
 world. 
 
 BiL — Whoy, nah, e gud sadness, thah dus'nt 
 pretend to say Owen's publish 't sitch stuif as thah's 
 been tokin abaht, dusta ? 
 
 Jack — Beledda, but o doo, an ten toimes 
 mooar if ta'd patience to hear it. If o wer to tell 
 the sum mooar abaht him, o'l tell the wot thah'd 
 say, 
 
 BiL — Hah, wot ? 
 
 Jack — ^Mioy, thah'd say at he wer organically 
 mad. He says at hah man is a creature of cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 BiL — Oh, he's won a that lot, is he ? 
 
 Jack — There's anuther thing or two at o want
 
 262 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 the to hear, if ta will but keep the temper whoil o 
 tell em the ; becos they're reggilar good ans. 
 
 BiL — Well, but if they're as soft as t'last lot, o'l 
 thro sum swarf e the face. But o avver, gooa 
 on. 
 
 Jack — Wa, then, he says as much as this ; — 
 at if a chap's skull be square, or ovil, or ralmd, or 
 iiooa shape at all, at he's not responsible for it. 
 {A yret uprooar, an Bit gets a handful a 
 swarf.) 
 
 BiL — Moind the holes ; thah dus'nt meean to 
 say at he maks use a them words e his boible, does 
 ta? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, not exactla ; but he says wots 
 exactla t'same meeanin. He says at nooa man's 
 responsable for his physical organoization. 
 
 BiL — Whoy, a fiat, ahr cat kno's that. 
 
 Jack — Witta have a bit mooar ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, o'm prepared for owt nah. 
 
 Jack — Wa, then, he says at nooa man's respon- 
 sable for hearin a mule rote ; or to let the have his 
 awn words, — " No one shall be responsable for the 
 sensations made on his organization by his exter- 
 nal circumstances." 
 
 BiL — Whoy, that's just same thing. But is'nt 
 he responsible for't manner in which he allows those 
 sensations to operate and influence his conduct — 
 eh, shai-p Bob ? 
 
 Jack — But o've another proime bit; — if a chap 
 meets a lass it street, an begins a huddlin her, an 
 sitch loike, nobbada al tak no nooatis, an they'll 
 not be ashamed, let em doo wot they will, becos he 
 says at e his new state a society, " there will be no
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 263 
 
 absurd feelings of shame created on account of the 
 natural atlections which ai'ise between individuals of 
 the opposite sexes." 
 
 BiL — Goodness ! we'st be loike Ada.m an Eve, 
 when they wer first created. — AVot innocent craturs 
 we'st be, for sartin ! 
 
 .Jack — Hah, an e this new state a thino;s, we'st 
 not be bother 'd we churches an chapels, an praichin 
 an prayin. O dear nou, Sunday an warkday al be 
 all aloike. As for't Bible, whoy, Robin believes 
 that's all a loi, or priestcraft, or summat else. AU't 
 religion wots necessary is to spaik truth. Bob says 
 that to worship God as we do, is necessarily 
 destructive of the rational faculties of those trained 
 in the practice of it. 
 
 BiL — Wa, all at o've to say abaht that is just 
 this, at he's a loiar ; an that's a short answer. 
 
 Jack — Webbut he says at nooa man's respon- 
 sable for his belief. 
 
 BiL — Wa, an if there's nivver been a revelation, 
 he isn't; but ev^en if there had'nt, dasn't a man's 
 belief influence his actions ? Is he responsable for 
 them, eh ? 
 
 Jack — Hah, that's a corker, Bil ; But he says 
 at man's character is form'd for him. 
 
 Bil — Oh, that's all fudge ; a man forms his 
 awn character. Is a man compell'd by his nature 
 to be a thief, a drunkard, or a murderer ? 
 
 Jack — Owen tells the at it all depends on his 
 or^^anoization, an't circumstances by which he's 
 sun-ahnded. 
 
 Bil — Wot, he cud'nt help it, eh, an thearfooar 
 he's not responsable for it P Nah o wuuder if
 
 t 
 
 264 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 a chap wer to meet Owen sum iieet, an administer 
 a salmd floggin, an then tell him at his 
 organoization an smTalmdin circumstances com- 
 pell'd him to do it ; would he be satisfoid we 
 that? 
 
 Jack — Tubbe consistent with his awn principles, 
 he'd be loik. 
 
 BiL — Then a hooap he'll get, it an sooin. 
 
 Jack — But Robberd says, at all past an present 
 systems are of an irrational character; but 
 my system is of a superior an virtuous charac- 
 ter. 
 
 BiL — O dear yis, I am the man, an wisdom al 
 die we me. But o say Jack, witta gooa an hear 
 his lecter ? 
 
 Jack — Wot dusta meean ? Dusta think o spend 
 mo toime a that way ? When onna chap cums " 
 tot tahn to toke common sense, whoy o'm there if 
 its possible ; but o dooant run after sitch a hare- 
 brain 'd goose as Bobby Owen no'ther. Nou, nou; 
 mo external circumstances waint let me, or else me 
 organoization, o do'nt kno which. 
 
 BiL — There al be plenty gooa if thah waint. 
 
 Jack- — Hah, an o cud tell the t' names of a 
 gud menny. O kno that lot, an has dun a 
 menny years ; they're a promisin set o'l uphoud 
 the ; they'n been a gret blessin tot tahn an so- 
 ciety in general ! O how they do but love 
 ther woives ! Good stars ! wot world renova- 
 tors they are. Yes, yes: they're mooast on em 
 vast fond at seragho system. It's vast odd 
 is'nt it, at these wisdomites cahnt stick to ther 
 woives ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 265 
 
 BiL — WLoy, it's ther organoization wot does it ; 
 they cahiit helj) it. 
 
 Jack — Does tbah organoization mak thee toke 
 nonsense ? 
 
 BiL — 'Sloik it does! an thoine maks thee a woise 
 man ; but there's nooa praise due to the for it,becos 
 
 thah't fooast tubbe woise, an o'm fooast tubbe 
 
 eh ? Wot fa dare !
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE SHEAF BRIDGE ORATORS, OR A 
 
 NIGHT IN THE OWENITES' 
 
 SANCTUARY. 
 
 "Whether impostors sinner it, or saint it. 
 If knavei-y grows ridiculous, I'll paint it. 
 
 BiL — O say Jack, o went to hear t' Share Brig 
 orators tuther iieet, an a foine treat o had anole. 
 
 Jack — Oh, thah did, did ta ? wot, o reckon it 
 vver the external circmnstances wot compell'd thee 
 to gooa, or else the organoization, wor'nt it ? Thah 
 heeard sura lodgick, o'l waiTant it. 
 
 BiL — It wer't inooast laffahle consarii at ivver ta 
 seed e the loif — it wer areggilarbiill-baitin. I'here 
 happen 'd to be a young chap throo Leeds there, an 
 he shaved sum on em rather to cloice ; an o'l be 
 hang'dif o did'nt think they'd ahettnhiin. There 
 wer won van-a poloite socialist, in whom dwelt all 
 the essence of good-breedin, — nay, he must have 
 been ommast perfect e Owen's blessed socialism, an 
 top fair an even brimmin o'er we charity ; — he 
 croid aht, " Thah't a brazen 'd young d 1, o
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 267 
 
 Jack — Wot! a socialist call a yoiiug man a 
 
 d 1 ; whoy, o shiid think they'd send him tot 
 
 nioral hospital, to get his organ oization rectifoid, 
 wud'nt tha ? 
 
 BiL — Abbut there wer anuther wot call'd him a 
 
 d d young b — g — r, an thretten'd to nock him 
 
 dahn. 
 
 Jack — That cahnt be true; for they're all on 
 em sitch good-natur'd souls at they cahnt no'ther 
 doo nowt nor say nowt to hurt onnabodda. 
 
 BiL — Wot o've said o'l sware to e onna cooart e 
 England, an o'l say mooai*; — o'l say at o nivver 
 heeai'd sooa much blagguard language e onna 
 meetin e all mo loif. Bur o a wer, he turn'd em 
 o'er as fast as they came, booath young an oud, 
 Xot a single argument could be answer 'd. O near 
 seed sitch a mob a socialists ; o'm quoit shure if a 
 philosopher's horse ad been amang em, he'd a kickt 
 ther brains aht. 
 
 Jack — O deny that. 
 
 BiL — Wot's ta meean be that ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy, o meean there wer non to 
 kick aht. Bur o say, Bil, did ta kno onna at 
 spaikers ? 
 
 Bil — Xou, o cahnt say at o did, .but o can ge 
 the a bit of a description a sum on em, an adder 
 say thah'l kno em. There wer won oud man, a 
 van-a noist, luvvin sooart an a oud man, we a pair 
 a spectacles on, an he'd sitch a noist weedlin, cantin, 
 greeasin way a spaikin, onnabodda ad a thowt at he 
 wer won at mooast innocent craters it world; he'd 
 wesht his face in a lav-er of hypocrisy, an dipt his 
 tongue in the oil of deception, an his words war ^as
 
 268 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 soft as childhood's smile, or woman's look of 
 love. 
 
 Jack — An prethe wot did he toke ahaht ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, abaht morality, an responsibility, 
 an sitch loik. He said at when onna chap broke 
 a moral law, at he wer awlis punisht in his sen for 
 it. Well, there wer a young chap jumpt up, wot 
 kno'd at this oud chap wornt livvin we his awn 
 woif ; an he said he thowt he cud mention sum 
 sins ageean a moral law at a man wornt punisht in 
 his sen for. Suppooas, says he, at a man seduces 
 his neighbour's wife, and thereby ruins the peace 
 of a family, is that man punisht in his sen ? 
 
 Jack — Moi oie, but that wer a clencher ! 
 
 BiL — Hah, an ivvera bodda seed it, ant oud 
 oily tongued goat felt it keenly, for he skulkt into a 
 corner, an nivver sho'd his hypocritical face no 
 mooar that neet. 
 
 Jack — They'l say thah has no charita. 
 
 BiL — Nou, nou, not much ; but its me organoi- 
 zation wot compels me to use't sledge hammer to 
 sitch chucks as these. 
 
 Jack — Wa, an whooa did ta see besoides ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, o seed anuther chap, wot cum up to 
 this young man when he wer toking, an after he'd 
 spued abaht seven hundred yards a ribbins, made a 
 blast furnace on his mahth, an conjured abaht a 
 hogsheead a pins, an sitch loik, he says, " Boy, 
 boy, boy, — did ya hear owt nock ? I'll meet ya 
 any where, an discuss the question with you." " If 
 you can bring any one at can talk common sense, 
 bring em," says't young chap ; " but o'm not 
 going to spend mo time e talkin to you." But
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 269 
 
 wot dusta think iher talented lecturer cum up 
 we ? 
 
 Jack — Nay, to guess that's impossible : becos 
 there's iiowt no'ther to soft iior monstrous for em 
 to say, an sum on em's not varra noist abaht wot 
 they dun. 
 
 BiL — Webbnt he wanted to cram it dahn't 
 fooaks's throits at Christians vver sujDpooarters a 
 slavery. 
 
 Jack — Whoy, he came throo Lunnon anole, 
 did'nt he ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, o beheve he did. 
 
 Jack — Wa, then, its quoite cleai'to me, at there's 
 as big thickheeads e Lunnon as onnawhere else. 
 But did'nt he kno at Christicms obtained emancipa- 
 tion to a great extent ? an dus'nt he kno at Chris- 
 tians (is nah troyin to exterminate it altogether ? 
 Did'nt he kno at slavery wer quoite opposed tot 
 spirit at gospel an Christianity ? His Lunnon 
 buzzard organical vision cud'nt see at there's a 
 world a difference between a Christian e name an 
 won e practice. But o say, just let me ask, wot 
 has the infidels done towards Negro emancipation ? 
 Have they sent petitions to Parliament for its 
 accomplishment ? Have they sent missionaries 
 abroad to evangelize em — eh ? When did ihey do 
 these things ? Never ! They've never been guilty 
 of a good action as a body sin't world stood, but 
 they've been guilty of ivvera croime wot can be 
 mentioned, an the commission on em's been aggi'a- 
 vated by their pretensions to right reason. An 
 now, forsooth, we've get'n infidelity drest up in a 
 new habit, hypocritically called Socialism ; an the
 
 270 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 great prophet of this social gang has pubhsht to 
 the world that marriage is prostitution ; — that to 
 worship God is irrational; an we all't crazy impu- 
 dence imaginable has asserted that he — do'nt mis- 
 take me — that he, Robert Owen, who has got a 
 patent to mak a world full of new organical skulls ; 
 — that he, Robert Owen, the philanthropical ori- 
 ginator of the seraglio system ; — that he, Robert 
 Owen, the first propagator in England of Sunday 
 fiddlin an donsin ; — that he, Robert Owen, founder 
 of the rational system of adultery; — that he, Robert 
 Owen, the only individual who ever attempted to 
 turn England into one common brothel, by living 
 in common, under pretence of reciprocal affection ; 
 — that he, Robert Owen, author, orator, an system- 
 builder to Burns's Nick-a-Cloota ; that he, Robert 
 Owen, is at this minnit in possession of the best 
 organized skull, an has it fixt up})at best pair of 
 organical shoulders at ivver wer stuck on a organized 
 trunk, or carried abaht be a pair a organical legs ; 
 an consequently, he says, we all the self-esteem 
 which is indicated by a bump on his skull abaht 
 soize a mo fist, — that he, R,obert Owen, is the only 
 rational man ! ! 
 
 BiL — Ailads Jack ! But dusta kno at they'd a 
 social fiddhn festival a Wissunday, at Share Brig ? 
 
 Jack — Whoy they had'nt, had they ? O 
 wonder, whether there wer onna reciprocal affection 
 stirrin amang em, eh ? becos they're sitch innocent, 
 lovin, affectionate, charitable, giid sooart a craters, 
 an nivver does nowt but wots natterable, thah kno's, 
 — eh ? But hah dusta kno at they'd a festival 
 there ?
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 271 
 
 BiL — Whoy, o doo kno, becos two young chaps 
 wot o kno, went in to em to ask em il" they'd let em 
 have their room to deliver two lectures in ageean 
 Owenism ; an they wud'nt let em have it. 
 
 Jack — An had they onna fiddlers ? an wer ther 
 booath men an women in ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, they'd two fiddlers ; and dusta think 
 at they'd be wethaht the ladies '^ Not sooa ! re- 
 ciprocity for that. 
 
 Jack — Webbut, vrud'nt they let em have 't 
 room ? 
 
 BiL — Xou, lad, they'd geen em enufif't neet 
 afooar. 
 
 Jack — O moi stars ! A whooal gang a Owenites 
 scared aht a ther wits at two young men ; dare'nt 
 let em ther room to discuss ther awn doctrines. 
 Well, that's a starcher ! it's just as it should be. 
 But o avver, there did'nt appear to be much 
 reciprocity of feelin, at onna rate between 't 
 parties. 
 
 BiL — Xou, they wert rang sex, thah flat ! But 
 wot sooat on a excuse did they mak, thinks ta ^ 
 They teld em at if they let it they shud braik 
 ther contract. Nah that were just a social lie ; 
 becos't landlord teld t' young men he'd nooa 
 daht at they'd let it em, an even went we em to 
 see. 
 
 Jack — O then, they mun be reported, an 
 we'll have em sent to't lying hospittle, o'ther to 
 have new tongues, or toud ans new organoized. 
 Then did these young chaps get a room onna 
 where ? 
 
 BiL — Hah, they took Tahn-Hall, for three neets;
 
 272 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 but they went a second time tot socialists, an there if 
 ther vvornt twenty or thirty apparently young lasses 
 set, an two or three oud goats we em ; an its 
 generally thought at they were taichin em't re- 
 ciprocity catechism. But hark the ! Gentlemen 
 
 we are all on us craturs a necessity, an all us 
 actions is necessary : ivvera man wot hears me 
 spaik here this neet were under a necessity to cum 
 here. Yo may think yo came in be chonce, but o 
 tell ya there is'nt sitch a thing as chonce : its all 
 fudge : yer external circumstances, an yer organ- 
 oization compell'd yo to cumin. An ocan tell 
 ya this at yo'n nooa choice a yer awn, becos 
 yore compelled o'ther to gooa away, or else stop 
 
 where yo are. Abbut, says a chap, shall o be 
 
 compelled to stop here another liahwer ? 0, says 
 
 t' lecterer, external circumstances al determine 
 
 that. Webbut, says't chap, if o say at o'l gooa 
 
 aht a this room at exactla noine o'clock be mo 
 watch, can o pleease mesen whether o gooa or not 
 
 at that toime ? O most certainly you can, if you 
 
 think proper to go. O then, says't chap, when 
 
 a fella's compelled to pleease his sen wot he does, 
 
 that's necessity is it ? Most certainly, says't 
 
 spaiker ; becos yore compell'd to make a choice. 
 
 .Tack — Wot a tomma ! 
 
 BiL — Abbut, hark the a bit longer. Noine 
 o'clock cum directla, an this young chap says, Nah 
 mester, o'm bahn to gooa away. Yis, says t' lec- 
 turer, external circumstances compels you to go. 
 That's a lie, says three or four wags, wot get fast 
 houd on him ; external circumstances compels him 
 to stay ; an O moi goodness ! wot a crack a laffin !
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 273 
 
 Soilence ! shahts't lecturer. — Gentlemen,, I wish to 
 explain to you the beautiful system wot we wish to 
 establish e this large and jDoppilous tahn. Gentle- 
 men, we shall have no distinction of chai'actev in 
 our state of society; — we shahnt have my Lord 
 Thingembob, an my Lady Lueza Carolina, duchess 
 o wot yo ma call it ; — we shall be all on a level. 
 Gentlemen, we shall have nooa beggars; [croies of 
 hear, hear !) west no'ther have kings nor priests ; 
 {hear, hear, from the infidel benches;) an conse- 
 quently, we shahnt have' em to keep. {Hurra !) 
 Gentlemen, man is a compound being, whose cha- 
 racter is formed for him of his constitution or or- 
 ganization at birth. Wa, then, shahts a chap, if it's 
 formed for him at his birth, it's a screeamin charac- 
 ter. That's not true, says anuther, is'nt it a man's 
 actions wot detenuines his character ? Yes, to be 
 shure, says t' lecturer. Wd, then, says't chap, hah 
 can his character be form'd befooar he's ivver per- 
 form 'd a single action — eh ? Wa, then, there wer 
 another uprooar. Gentlemen, says t'lecturer, I 
 shall not stay to answer such silly objections. These 
 young men have got'n a quibbling organ oization. 
 Therefore I shall proceed. — Gentlemen, man is 
 compelled to receive his feelins an convictions, in- 
 dependent of his will. Indeed ! says anuther, what 
 do you mean by his constitution ? — do j-ou mean 
 his organoization only, or the whole man himself ? 
 Oh, the whole man himself, says t'lecturer. Oh, 
 then, he receives them independent of himself ; — 
 that is to say, he receives them, but he dus'nt re- 
 ceive them. An this is Lunnon lodgick, is it — eh ? 
 Jack — Thah maks me think abaht one a these 
 
 T
 
 274 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 socialists at Leeds wot ad get n necessarily drunk, 
 an sooa he wer necessiated to kick up a row ; an 
 sooa it necessai'ily happen 'd at one at police get 
 houd on him, an necessarily lockt him up all't neet. 
 Sooa t'next monin it wer necessary to bring him 
 befooar won at magistrates, to be examined abaht 
 this necessary row at he'd kickt up. Well, say 
 magistrate, what is it you have been about ? Oh, 
 says t' man, o think it's a shame to bring me here 
 for dooin wot o cud nt help dooin. Yes, says't 
 Justice, and so think I ; but what is it you have 
 been doing ? They say you have been breaking 
 the peace, my man. Yis, sir, but o wer predesti- 
 nated to kick up a row, o cud'nt help it. Oh, in- 
 deed, you wer predestinated to kick up a row, were 
 you ? Well, then, I'll just tell you what I am 
 predestinated to do ; — 1 am predestinated to fine 
 you twenty shillings and costs for being predes- 
 tinated to kick up a row ; so that 3'ou will have the 
 l)leasure of paying for predestination. And I can tell 
 you more ; — if you come here again under similar 
 circumstances, I shall be predestinated to do some- 
 thing for you very handsome.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 THE PHRENOLOGICAL FARRAGO OF 
 
 CHARLES THOROLD WOOD, ESQ. 
 
 WHEELSWARFT. 
 
 BiL Heftpoip — Well, Jack, wot's matter we 
 the, this morniii ? tliaht in a brahn studda, o think, 
 arnt ta ? 
 
 Jack Wheelswakf — Hah, o've been dooin a 
 bit it brain way. 
 
 BiL — Wot, has ta been grooapin summada's 
 brains ? for there's a vast deeal a noise abaht brains 
 nah-days ; we'n concentrativ brains, philoprogenitiv 
 brains, amativ brains, adhesiv brains, combativ 
 brains, ahmentiv brains, secretiv brains, acquisitiv 
 brains, an constructiv brains. 
 
 Jack — Abbut there's anuther sooarta brains wot 
 thah's not menshon'd, 
 
 BiL — Hah? wot sooart's them? o thowt o'd 
 menshon'd all there wor it brain kallender. 
 
 Jack — Nor hofe, lad, thah neer sed nowt abaht 
 soft ans, an moind me if there is'nt mooai- a this 
 last sooat sturrin nor thaht aware on. 
 
 BiL — Webbut thah did'nt say wot thah wer 
 thinkin abaht so varra cloisly.
 
 276 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — O nou, but o wer thinkiii abaht us brain 
 bein'l organ at moind; o mean, thah kno's, t' thing 
 wot t' moind maks use on as a sooait an a main 
 spring, to ge nooatis tot moind hah things is gooin 
 on, t' rooad to it Hggin throot senses. 
 
 BiL — Fudge, lad, it's all up we that doctrinnah; 
 oVe summat e mo pocket wot just turns all that 
 sooart a philosophy upsoid dahn, an it's written be 
 a chap wot thinks he knose all abaht it, becos he 
 lives in a varra foine hahce, an's had a varra foine 
 eddication, an sitch loik. 
 
 Jack — Hah ! prethe whooa is he when he's 
 enuff ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, he's a vaiTa rich man, an his 
 name, whoy it issent hooak nor yit hezzle ; but it's 
 Wood for all that : hah, Charles I'horold Wood, 
 of Campsall Hall, an if wisdom dus'nt dee when he 
 dus, it al be in a consumption, depend ont. 
 
 Jack — O dear, o dear, is it him ? Whoy he's 
 varra latela been deliver'd of a lecture it Lyceum e 
 Doncaster, abaht grooapin't skull, an it wer pub- 
 lished e Shevvild. 
 
 BiL — Hah, that's wot o've getn e mo pocket, an 
 there's won paragraph wot o want the to look at, an 
 if ta can lig the intellectual musher abaht it, doo, an 
 let it swing reit an left ; but o'l read the't paragraph, 
 an then thah may gooa at it. " The word mind is 
 calculated to mislead, for it suggests the idea of an 
 existent being, whereas in fact it designates merely 
 a function or action of the brain, to which it stands 
 in the same relation as digestion to the stomach, or 
 respiration to the lungs." 
 
 Jack — A, mo lad, that doctrine wornt born at
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 277 
 
 Campsall Hall ; it cum aht at crazy brains a 
 Lawrence. 
 
 BiL — Lawrence, La\^Tence ; whoy thah diis'nt 
 meean oud Nock, dus ta ? 
 
 Jack — O desoir tbah nivver fouls the lips we 
 that name no mooar. 
 
 BiL — That al be as it happens ; getonwe thewark. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, it furst place, accooardin tot 
 Campsall Hall doctrine at human moind, it's uo'ther 
 matter nor sperrit ; it has'nt a positive existence ; 
 consciousness, willin, judgin, an all us powders a 
 reasonin, have ther existence it action at brain, an 
 when that action at brain's dun actin, whoy then 
 t'moind's dun existin. AUads Thorold Wood ! if" 
 sitch stuff is'nt Vv-orthy a bedlam, tell us wot is. Nah 
 then, mester Wood, dus't brain act continually ? is 
 it awlis e action, or is it nobbut sumtoimes e action ? 
 nah, it's loik to be won at two, there's nowt else for 
 it, an yo shall have yer choice which, 
 
 BiL — Wa then, o'l say for him, at its awlis e 
 action. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, if it is, he reckon 'd withaht his 
 host, becos ift brain be awlis active, then we'n awlis 
 a moind, an't m.oind ad just be as much an existent 
 bein ast brain is. 
 
 BiL — Wa then, o'l say for him at brain is'ut 
 awlis active. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, there must be a toime when 
 we ha'nt a moind — when we've nooa consciousness 
 of us existence, nay when we dooant know at we 
 doc exist. 
 
 BiL — WTiov, we dooant kno that when we're 
 
 t3
 
 278 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Jack — Abbut we think when we're asleep, an 
 raester ^yood cahnt tell us when he is'nt thinkin ; 
 for even if he cahnt remember his dreams, that's 
 nooa proof at he has'nt dremt ; an besoid dreams is 
 caused withaht onna thing actin uppat brain to pro- 
 duce a operation, becost senses is shut up, us moind's 
 shutters is put too, an therefooar there's nooa 
 brainish action e dreams ; wot dun ya think abaht 
 that, mester Wood, eh ? 
 
 BiL — Moi hoi, oud lad, but that's a stunner ! 
 At him ao'eean. 
 
 o 
 
 Jack — Wa, he says at moind stans it same rela- 
 tion tot brain as't digestion does tot stomach ; — nah, 
 then, can ther be onna sitch thing as digestion withaht 
 summat material to digest ? 
 
 BiL — Wa, o think o may say nou for him there, 
 o avver. 
 
 Jack — VaiTa well ; can there be onna action at 
 brain, \nthaht brain be acted upon ? 
 
 BiL — Wa, o dooant kno wot sooart a eagle-eyed 
 vision mester Wood has, but o cahnt see hah there 
 can. 
 
 Jack — Wa, then, prethe wot material action at 
 brain is it wot maks t' moind reflect uppen itsen ? 
 Is it a sooart an a josslin at brains together wot 
 causes this reflection ? this cahnt be, becos we can 
 reflect uppat operations on us moinds, withaht bein 
 bumpt o'er us toll-dish to joggle us brains abaht, 
 just a purpos to mak us think. 
 
 BiL — If these Campsall Hall gentlemen can 
 spawn no better food for philosophers nor this, 
 whoy, o think they'd better keep it at hooani to 
 cram ther turkevs.
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 279 
 
 Jack — Nab, o slmd just, loik to kno wot loikiiess 
 ther is between a action at brain an a action at 
 moind. Is'nt brain matter ? an can there be onna 
 action withabt mooation ? — material action o meean, 
 thah kno's. 
 
 BiL — Who}', o think not. 
 
 Jack — Then if't brain acts at all, it's a move- 
 ment at }3articles at brain throo won part at cranium 
 to another. 
 
 BiL — Exactla, an o think Thorold ad say sooa 
 anole. 
 
 Jack — Nah, then, wot's a action at moind ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, perception is a action at moind. 
 
 Jack — Come, then, tell mester Wood hah it's 
 done. 
 
 BiL — Sloik will ; wa, then, suppooas Wil- 
 loughby Wood's proposition at he get throo me Lord 
 Brougham is placed befooar us, viz., at man is'nt 
 responsible for his belief; wot faculty at moind 
 will it call into operation to detect its fallacy ? 
 Whoy, this proposition is made up of letters put 
 into words ; these pass in swift succession o'er the 
 retina of the eye — that is, t'images a these, thah 
 kno's — till at last that faculty call'd perception dis- 
 covers 't relation wot they bear to won anuther ; 
 then cums mester Reason, an gets oud on em, an 
 riddles em weel to get all't chaff' aht, thah kno'z, 
 till at last mester Perception cums agean, an he 
 sees at wonce at this proposition is defective, becos 
 men are influenced by certain motives to believe 
 certain things; an therefooar it shud a been a this 
 way ; — man is'nt responsible no 'ther for his capacity 
 of understanding, his opportunities of knowledge.
 
 280 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 sufficiency of evidence, nor the motives which] in- 
 duce his behef. Then last of all cums mester 
 Judgment, an drawst black cap o'er his face, an 
 pronahnces me Lord's wonderful gret truth wot's 
 gone forth, to be a gret summat else — yo ma guess 
 wot. Nah, then, is ther onna loikness e these two 
 operations ? The first, in fact, is not a operation, 
 nor a action no'ther ; but the second is a noble an 
 intellectual operation. 
 
 Jack — Webbut, jnst for a lark; if't moind a 
 man is produced be a action at brain, the mooar 
 violent that action is, the bigger't moind ad be, be- 
 cos ivvera bodda kno's at there's big moinds an lit- 
 tle ans. Nah, o wunder whether Charles Thorold 
 Wood's be actin just nah ; if they arnt, whoy, then, 
 he's just nooa moind at all; an as he seems varra 
 ambitious for poppilarata, o'd advise him to run his 
 heead ageean a ruff stooan wall, an moi stars, he'd 
 have a moind loik a steeam wheel boiler ! But 
 suppooasin this phrenological materiahst should 
 happen to be stannin on his heead'^t'next time his 
 brains begins to operate, hah then ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, then his moind ad^be "stannin^on 
 its heead anole, an all his thowts ad be tum'd 
 upsoid dahn. 
 
 Jack — Wa then, he must have"been stannin on 
 his heead when he delivered his sen on his lectur, 
 for all his thowts ar't wrang end uppards, an they 
 Stan up just loik t' boolders e Lichfield-street. 
 
 BiL — Webbut he happen meeans at moind is 
 caused bit particular organoization at brain. 
 
 Jack — Organoization can produce just nowt at 
 all ; becos nooa organoization can act whoile it's
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 281 
 
 acted on. Did ta ivver see consciousness floy aht 
 an a steeam ingin ? 
 
 BiL — Nou, mun, it is'nt organoized reit for it. 
 
 Jack — That's true, nor nooa other organoization 
 is; an as to Mester Wood's tokin abaht moind 
 bein 'taction at brain, whoy all at that proves is just 
 this, at Mester Wood's capable a tokin nonsense, 
 becos, as we sed afooar, ift brain be awlis activ^e, then 
 we'n awlis a moind, even accooardin to his awn 
 dogma ! — ^nah then, INIester Wood, yore brain pro- 
 duced yer moind did'nt it ? 
 
 BiL — O'st say yis for him. 
 
 Jack — Hah did he get to kno that ? 
 
 BiL — Whoy, his muther fetcht him a claht o'ert 
 heead won day, an set him a thinkin loik a spinnin 
 jinna. 
 
 Jack — Ho — ho — that's just funna, is'nt it, at 
 brains is fooast to mak a bein a purpose to kno at 
 we ban brains ! But we'st call him up tot scratch 
 abaht anuther thing ; — he says at t' word moind 
 designates merely a function or action at brain ; but 
 Mester Wood, \\ill yo be so good as just to tell us 
 Shevvild groinders hah thowt is secreted it brain ? 
 an when it is secreted, e what crevice at knowledge 
 box does it lig ? Nah as yore sitch a thick an 
 thin phrenologist, mooast loikla yo'n grooapt menny 
 a skull booath insoid an aht, an's seen an handled 
 menny a peck a brains ; doo, o beseech ya, fort 
 credit a yer awn brains, be vaiTa careful when ya 
 split up anuther toll dish, to see if ya cahnt find a 
 soul e sum comer ; there is won depend ont, sum- 
 where ; if yo should happen to see a perception 
 stickin aht, or a will, or a consciousness, slap oud
 
 282 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 
 
 Oil him we booatli liands, an drag him aht ahogether 
 (for if yo get'n won all't rest al follow,) an show 
 him up it Lyceum e Doncaster, an a boiled turnip 
 to yore brains at yo get'nt furst prize it grooapin 
 community. 
 
 BiL — Throo wot we'n seen an's known a Charles 
 Thorold Wood, we'n ivvera reason to believe at he 
 disbelieves it existence a sperrit, an at he believes at 
 there's nowt exists but matter. 
 
 Jack — A, bless the loif, if thah wer to talk to him 
 abaht a sperrit, he'd laff whoil his brains shackt 
 anuther soul aht. 
 
 Bi L — Wa o'l bet him a shillin he calint demonstrate 
 t' existence a matter, an then o'l hg him another at 
 o can demonstrate t' existence a moind ; — hah then 
 will he prove at matter exists ? 
 
 Jack — O reckon he'l say he can see it. 
 
 BiL — Abbut he cahntsee it. 
 
 Jack — Not if he's blind he cahnt. 
 
 BiL — Nou, nor if he'd all't eyes e Campsall he 
 cud'nt see it. 
 
 Jack — Explain. 
 
 BiL — Well, hah does he get his ideas of outward 
 objects ? 
 
 Jack — Throot medium of his senses. 
 
 BiL — Hah, for instance, all these outward things 
 are pictured on his eye, an these images is seen bit 
 moind ; he dus'nt see't objects ther sens, but merely 
 t'figures on em ; an besoide, wot ivver his ideas may 
 be, these ideas is within him ; they ar'nt its objects; 
 sooa hah does he kno at he is'nt deceived ? But 
 it's varra different wit moind ; we're not dependent 
 on us senses for ahr knolledge of us moinds ; we're
 
 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 283 
 
 all on lis conscious of sensation, an thowt, an sitch 
 loike ; an sooa tliah sees, after all this stnff an stur, 
 these wonderful wooden Woods, wot's bahn to turn 
 t'religioiis world upsoide dahn, to establish ther 
 phrenological, brain -splittin system on its ruins, at 
 they cahnt, nou, not all three on em — for they're 
 all of a kidney — even demonstrate the existence of 
 matter. But mester Wood's absurdities dus'nt end 
 here. The mind is an act of the brain ; so that 
 whenever he can set the brain e action, he creates a 
 whole moind at one strooak, we all its powers. A 
 dear hah, consciousness, perception, conception, 
 willing, judgment, nay, ivvera attribute at mind is 
 browt into being at one single twirl ; an when that 
 twirl's twirl'd its last twirl, alas, alas ! all these no- 
 ble faculties are untwirl'd. 
 
 Jack — Nah, then, mester Wood, yo happen 
 did nt kno at there wer onna sitch chaps as us lived 
 e Shevvild, an if yo'd kept yer farrago within eight 
 moile a Doncaster, yo happen wud'nt a kno'n still ; 
 but o avver yo'l foind it aht nah at we'n tain yore 
 phrenological mongi'el, an duckt him e ahr wheel- 
 kit, an turn'd him aht intot world to be hooted an 
 hunted till he kennels e some emty cranium ^^•ithin 
 t'walls a Campsall Hall.
 
 G. CHALONER, PRINTER, MARKET-PLACE, SHEFFIELD, 
 
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